My Final Mistake (2014-2016)
by AlyssaRuin
Summary: She had lost everything; had been brought to a time that was not her own, for a reason unknown, taken in by a painter who was long dead, in a city filled with people who believed she was another. Then she met the Auditores. Swept into a world of art, mystery, magic and death, she must learn to trust a man who stands for everything she despises, if she is to survive. /abandoned
1. Prologue (2014)

_Originally posted on 21st July 2010 under the username xRandomestx (oh god), My Final Mistake was the first fanfiction I ever properly threw myself into. I wasted years editing and rewriting this story and thus it was never finished and will likely never be. But I hunted through my files and found a few of the earliest versions (2014-2016) which I want to post, despite how much it makes me cringe to read these days. The efforts of my younger self shouldn't go to waste._

_At about the 2016 point, we switch from first person to third, the Voice became embodied in the character Uni, and our MC had not made her confession to Leonardo as early as she had in the 2014 version and so in Chapter 26 she does so again - I'm not fixing this._

_So here we go - My Final Mistake._

/

There was blood. So much blood. The thick, red liquid of life that when exposed too greatly to the outside world brought nothing but death.

I couldn't figure whether it was her's or my own.

It was everywhere; the thick, heavy, encroaching darkness. I tried so hard to stay awake, but I couldn't. I couldn't breathe.

My mother was screaming at her to stop, that she was going to kill me. But my sister just squeezed tighter. There were tears in her brown eyes, they rolled halfway down her cheeks before falling down to my body and mixing with her blood…or was it mine? I couldn't tell.

I didn't fight. I didn't fight my sister's choking hands, her harsh, agonizingly true words, her scratches, her strikes…her knife in my stomach. That's where most of the blood was coming from. There was blood flowing from my sister's arm as well, where she had sliced herself in her haste to stab me. I had barely felt the pain. There was nothing but acceptance and a feeling that everything was wrong in the world.

It shouldn't have been him. The car shouldn't have hit him.

I could hardly see anything anymore, and the light hurt my eyes so I closed them. I didn't want to see her face. She looked so much like him.

I could faintly feel the tight clenching feeling of my lungs screaming for air, could feel the cold hand of death spreading throughout my body. I barely noticed when the constricting hands disappeared from around my neck. It didn't make any difference. I was too far gone.

Without my sister's hands holding my neck and head in place, it flopped limply to one side. My eyes fluttered as every bell and whistle in my mind screamed in panic, sending out desperate messages to my heart and lungs, pleading with them to not give up.

I could hear my mother and sister screaming, could hear my mother's struggle to hold her oldest daughter back, my sister's screams; "It's all your fault! He never should've died! It should've been you!"

My eyes opened all the way as time seemed to slow. Their screams became mere background noise, dull and monotonous as her words tore at my heart. My clouded mind registered nothing but the pain…and then, a solid, clunking sound, like a metal ball, bouncing toward me. It hit the ground once…twice…and then, on the third hit, it rolled across the ground to a halt less than an arm's length away.

It was a golden sphere, with an elaborate pattern engraved into the exterior, and what seemed to be a bright golden light, glowing from within. It sang to me, and my panicked mind was silenced, and the ice in my chest disappeared. With all of the little strength I had left, I reached my dead-weighted arm out, and laid my hand on its cool surface.

As my sight began to fade for the last time, I saw as the sphere started to glow even brighter than before, felt as it grew hotter and hotter until a searing pain spread through my hand and up my arm.

The pain was the last thing I felt. The golden light was the last thing I saw. "Tommy…" was the name that filled my last breath.

My little buddy.

My little brother.

My final mistake.


	2. Chapter 1 (2014)

I floated around in the nothingness, my mind registering nothing and everything all at once. I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or shut, whether I was standing up or lying down, whether I was dead or alive.

I could however, tell that I was no longer being choked by my sister, could tell that I was no longer in my house, could no longer hear my mother's screams, could no longer feel the pain. On the outside at least. I felt broken and dirty. I felt empty and numb. I felt like a stranger in my own body. Nothing seemed real.

One moment I was floating bout in the nothingness, and then an intense golden light blinded me. I clenched my eyes shut against the beams and turned my head to the side, bringing my hands up in front of my face. The light intensified and I stared into the red of my eyelids in mounting confusion. I opened one eye in a squint, and a short burst of air flew from my lungs in surprise as my eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

I could actually feel my brain sending thousands of messages to my left hand, asking it if it was burning like my eyes told me it was, but my hand said 'no'. If hands can even do that.

My hand, my palm was glowing a brilliant gold, and was feeling unnaturally warm. But it didn't hurt; didn't even tingle.

I closed my left hand gently into a fist, and though the light dimmed slightly as my fingers obstructed my view of it, the light shone out in thin streams of pure gold through the gaps between the digits. I opened and closed my fist twice more before my mind registered that my surroundings were slowly changing.

I let my glowing hand drop back to my side as I looked around at the…marketplace? That seemed to be painting itself around me. I heard the cobblestones laying themselves down and joining together to form the streets, heard the red tiles clinking together as they slid into their places on the roofs of the tall buildings around me, I saw the people forming together, starting out as pale, human shaped blobs; faceless, featureless, and then forming slowly, like a artist sketching a face, and then clothes, and then colouring the entire thing. Completely realistic, completely real. Dozens of individual people walked around, laughing and chatting and shopping.

I turned a slow circle on the spot, gaping at the sounds, the smells of fresh fruit and vegetables and heavy perfume and wine. My breaths felt heavy in my bruised chest as I felt the round, smooth cobblestones under my feet; felt the fresh air blowing gently across my face and lifting the lighter strands of my brown hair to float softly around my head.

The wind blew through the many tiny gaps in the fibres of my shirt, causing a shiver to run down my spine and sending tingles up through nerves in my neck. I completed my circle and was left facing a giant rectangular shaped building made from thick stone bricks. The large gate that seemed to be blocking the entrance into a courtyard lined with beautiful climbing vines and stone benches for relaxing at a long days end.

_It's a palazzo._ I started at the information that seemed to just pop into my head. Relaying said information in a voice which was not my own.

"Palazzo." I formed the word with my lips, but let no sound escape.

A frown was etched onto my face and my blue eyes could not stay settled on one spot. I shook my head slightly, closing my eyes and sighing through my nose. My heart was beating too fast, my breaths were too shallow, my head spun. This couldn't be right. This couldn't be real.

"Marietta."

A strange, unattached recognition arose in my mind, and my eyes shot open and all I saw was brown. A deep, confident, vain, caramel brown, lined with long dark lashes. Smooth, mostly unblemished olive skin, plump, red painted lips and thick, luscious raven hair which shone almost purple in the afternoon sun. For a long moment I was stunned by a strange sense of familiarisation; I knew those eyes. The beautiful young woman turned her gaze to me and I blushed, embarrassed to have been caught staring. She seemed incredibly amused and I cleared my sore, scratchy throat awkwardly, raising a hand to the bruises which were no doubt showing red, black and blue against my pale skin in the shape of my sister's long, strong fingers. She smiled then, and in that moment, a confusing realisation hit me; she's not smiling at me. That was impossible, however, as I was standing right in front of her, obstructing the view of most people behind me. Yet still, she was not smiling at me, not looking at me. In fact it didn't even seem as if she was acknowledging my existence at all. After a moment of moving my head distractingly and even going as far as to poke out my tongue in my effort to catch her attention, I stumbled back a step. I choked a laugh at the ridiculous impossibility of it all, feeling slightly hysterical. "She can't see me. You can't see me," I told her. "Why… why can't you…"

This must be a dream, it all must just be a dream.

The woman continued to stare straight through me, but the smile had fallen from her face and the amusement had faded from her eyes. She stood, still and statuesque and suddenly looking very, frighteningly empty.

"Signorina Marietta, are you alright?" My attention was turned to an olive skinned Italian man, young, with shoulder-length dark brown hair, a strong, clean shaven jaw and smiling eyes, maybe a year older than the girl, walking up to her side and shaking her shoulder gently. "Marietta?" He shook her shoulder again before he frowned in confusion.

"_Lei può sentirmi?"_ the man asked her, concern in his deep, accented voice. My thoughts plunged suddenly at the deep, masculine tone, and my younger brother's hazel eyes filled my mind. He would never go through puberty. He never got the chance.

Swallowing at the lump in my throat, and clenching my jaw to squash the overwhelming sense of self-loathing which arose, threatening to send me spiralling into a pool of darkness and hate, I suddenly registered that the man was stepping around toward me to stand in front of the woman, Marietta, in the spot right upon which I was standing. My muscles clenched automatically for the impact but none came. Instead, the man stepped into me.

And then he was everywhere, I could feel the warmth of his skin; could feel the air flowing in and out of his lungs as he breathed, could feel the strong muscles in his arms as he lifted them and placed them on Marietta's shoulders, could feel his heart pumping powerfully in his chest.

I could hear his thoughts, but not understand them. They seemed to be in a different language. Italian, I recognised. My grandfather was Italian, though new little of the language himself which was a real shame.

It wasn't just thoughts; memories flew past me like a stormy wind, mixing with each other, swirling, floating. I could hear him. I was in him. I was him.

I wanted out.

My heart began beating faster as adrenaline flooded into my bloodstream. I was panicked, I was scared, and I was hopelessly confused. I lunged forward and felt my invisible self flood out of his chest. The momentum shot me forward.

This is a dream. This is all just a dream. It has to be. Things like this don't happen, I yelled in my mind.

I fell into Marietta, expecting a flood of memories, of thoughts, but there was nothing. Instead, there was me. I felt it as everything that was me, spread throughout Marietta's body, taking over, re-wiring to suit my feelings, my wants, my needs. I felt it as the 'me' spread through Marietta's veins, through her tendons and muscles and her nerves, making them mine.

The entire process took half the time it would take a person to blink.

Marietta's… My shoulders slumped and she—I took a sharp breath in. I blinked my now long-lashed eyes, and suddenly, I was looking out of them, straight into the brown eyes of the man.

I switched my gaze between his two eyes, flicking rapidly between the two in a kind of shocked horror. My chest, attempting to flutter up and down merely decided to just let my breasts do the work as they were the only things that could actually move. This corset, or bodice or whatever the heck it was called, was choking me. I couldn't breathe. My mind clouded and terror took over. I could feel cold hands around my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter. I could hear a woman screaming, could feel the warm sticky blood pooling underneath me. Could see the darkness coming.

"Marietta?" I barely heard him. I clenched and unclenched my hands, dimly registering how much smaller they were to my…my old hands. I stared wide eyed at the man's white clothed chest, small, quick breaths shooting in and out of my mouth. How? How? How? How?

"Marietta?!" the man said more forcefully. My gaze shot up and I fixed him in a frightened stare.

"I'm not Marietta." I choked. His frown deepened in confusion before my mind clouded in terror again.

His hands. They were closing in on my neck. He was going to strangle me. He watched in confusion as I stepped closer to him, grabbed his own shoulders, and then brought my knee up hard and fast. He keeled over in pain, groaning, and as he did, my knee came up again and this time connected with his nose. The man fell onto his back on the cobblestone street.

"_Cazzo_, Marietta!" he groaned through his teeth, his hands over his nose and his eyes squeezed shut in pain.

Panting slightly, I looked up from him and at the small crowd that had gathered around us, murmuring and whispering and staring with confused, amused and judgemental eyes. I looked from left to right, blood pumping hard through my body, making everything hot and confused and overwhelming. I grabbed a handful of the skirt of my dress, spun around, and ran for it.

I ran and ran until I tripped and stumbled stupidly into the side of a building where I stopped, pressing my forehead to the cool wall and took several deep, calming breaths. I turned lethargically and made my way over to an empty bench, my head down and trying with all of my might to block out the strange new world around me. I violently readjusted the skirts of my dress so that I was more comfortable. There was so much damn fabric.

Where am I? was the question swirling around in my lowered head. I frowned down at her—my – hands where they rested in my lap. They were so much smaller than before, and my fingers were so slender and long. My nails were no longer chewed half to death, but pink, smooth and long. The now very girly hands were shaking terribly, as was the rest of my body—but it wasn't my body. It was her's. Where was Marietta?

I searched around in my head, trying to find any trace of her, but there was nothing. Was she dead? Had I killed her? Or was she in my old body? In which case she would be dead anyway. My hand came up to cup around my neck, where I rubbed it softly and was surprised to feel that the bruises were still there, which seemed entirely impossible and yet, there they were. I felt around my stomach, searching for the tell tale torrent of red which would indicate that the gaping knife wound had also been transferred over but I couldn't feel anything through the corset which felt to be made of actual whale-bone. I wondered at the slimness of Marietta's waist and the amount of breast she was endowed with, far less than I had previously in my own body, which wasn't exactly a bad thing. My own body… I stopped, my hands falling to my – Marietta's – lap.

I was murdered by my sister. I'm dead. I must be. And now I'm here, in someone else's body. I honestly can't decide what's worse.

My nose tickled as tears began to roll their way down my cheeks. My breaths shortened and my hand moved from my lap to my mouth as I tried to stifle the sobs. How was I supposed to cope with this?

I could feel the eyes of the people as they passed by, all staring confusedly at the sobbing girl on the stone bench. I could hear their concerned murmurs, but no one came to console me. I wrapped my arms around myself as I cried, and found that it was also very hard to cry and breathe all while wearing a stupid corset. It was incredibly uncomfortable.

I sat there on that bench for hours after I stopped crying, watching the shadows of the buildings and people stretch further and further along the dirty cobble street. The people grew fewer and fewer as night began to fall, and finally, the streets were empty. A chilly wind pricked at the bare skin of my arms, neck and shoulders and I shivered. I could feel the cramp in my neck and shoulders, a result of spending way too long looking down.

I felt empty inside, numb and exhausted and as if I would never move from this spot again.

The moon shone high in the sky. I could hear laughter and yelling from a pub somewhere to my right, a long way off and it had gotten colder. I was shivering constantly now, my whole body shaking.

_You need to get warm._

The voice startled me, the surprise seemingly jumpstarting my heart. My eyes flickered across the ground and my neck creaked as I turned it very slightly from side to side, looking for the shoes belonging to the person who had spoken.

_You're going to get sick._

My lips parted and I returned to my original position. "I don't care." I barely whispered, wincing at the cold air slicing down my windpipe and into my chest.

_We know. But we do._

My eyebrow twitched, my forehead attempting to pull into a frown. "Why?"

_Suddenly, Tommy's face flashed before my eyes. His grey eyes were wide and terrified, his mouth open in a silent scream, his little hand reached out for me as I dived forward, reaching for him as my heart leaped to my throat in horror. _

No. I tried forcing the memory away, but there was a wall.

_I heard Tommy screaming my name, felt my lips part to scream his…and then everything went red. There was the sound of a blaring car horn, the screech of tyres, and then a slowing heartbeat…boom boom….boom boom…boom…boom…._

_The sound of a machine flat lining. _

I fell sideways from the bench, curling up into a ball and cradling my head, trying not to scream. Tears streaked down my face as I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes, desperately trying to block it out.

_And then, there was another sound; my older sister Jasmin screaming at me, pounding on me with her fists. I took the blows. Her face was wild, her cheeks red and her lips pulled back over her teeth as she plunged the knife into my stomach. I collapsed to my knees, feeling the blood run down my legs before she shoved me back, straddling me, and then taking my neck between her hands. And all the while, my mother stood pressed against the wall, her hands over her face, screaming at Jasmin to stop but never moving to actually make her. Not until it was too late._

My hands moved to my neck. I could feel her fingers there, could feel the tips of her nails digging in, my neck beaded with blood. My eyes rolled back in my head…

_Forget, _the voice whispered sharply.

All at once, my mind went black.


	3. Chapter 2 (2014)

I woke up the next morning a new person. Literally.

After falling off of the bench with a surprised scream, and a short confused look around at the changes that had been applied to my bedroom and the people in it, I remembered what had happened. Or tried to.

My mind was a complete blank. The last thing I could remember was walking home from school with my little brother Tommy. I remember me saying something about this new computer game I had just bought and him grinning like the little boy he was, and then… nothing.

Weird.

I picked myself off the ground and analysed the situation. I was in a place which looked suspiciously European, with suspiciously European-looking people walking around. This all seemed very strange. Even I felt strange. I looked down at my arms, and checked out my hair. Olive skin, black hair. Yes, this all seemed in order. Except it didn't. I stood for a long moment thoughtfully, but could not for the life of me decide why that was. So, I shrugged it off and checked out my own clothing instead. A dress. Curious.

I didn't actually own too many dresses and definitely none even almost as elaborately gorgeous as the one I was wearing. The dark red skirt ruffled out around me, laced with what looked to me like gold thread, and had dark green swirls through it. The corset was joined with the skirt… somewhere. I could feel that it was two separate pieces but on the outside, it seemed like one. It was incredibly beautiful, yet entirely impractical. I wondered where the nearest shop was. I needed some pants.

But not those, I thought critically, eying a rather large man wearing what looked like dark blue leggings underneath a fancy tunic and brown boots. I cringed. A jingle on my hip brought me to the attention of a small green pouch, attached to a rope tied around my waist. I sat seated on the stone bench as I tugged it from the rope and tugged the little green bag open and peered inside.

Around fifty or so gold coins shone up at me. Eyes growing wide, I reached in and picked one up. On one side a fleur-de-lis and on the other, the depiction of a saint holding a sceptre. This… this looked like a bona fide Italian florin. These were worth around two hundred dollars apiece! I quickly dropped the coin back in the bag and shut it tight, looking around at the crowds warily. Where did I get this? Why did I have it? Why couldn't I remember? I returned it to the rope around my waist, and began wandering down the street.

I began to walk slower and slower as I took in more of the city. It was all so foreign; I had never seen anything like it; the people, the clothes, the dresses, their hats, their hairstyles.

The more I looked, the more I felt as if I'd seen these things before, in a book or on the computer or something. Was it medieval? I shook my head to myself. No, they didn't look British; the people were all too tanned, too exotic. Maybe, the Renaissance then? I licked my lips, realising what this meant.

I was in one of those crazy villages. The ones with the people who refuse to accept today's technology, who enjoy the simple hardworking life to the easy, fast paced one everyone else has moved onto. So, I got kidnapped? That made sense.

_You have not been kidnapped,_ a voice said, startling me.

I stopped walking and looked around. Nobody was looking at me as if they wished to hold a conversation, so where did the voice come from? Suddenly, my left thumb felt as if it were being slit open. I hissed in pain and lifted it to my eyes. My mouth dropped open and I frowned, my eyes wide. On my palm, not centred but more over the muscle of my thumb, was a dark gold circle with sharp lines designed into it. As I tilted my hand back and forward, the circle seemed to shimmer. Did they tattoo me as well?

Man, these people really are crazy. I closed my hand, blinking in confusion as I had a flash of a pale hand in the same position, except for a bright gold light emitting from the fist. The vision disappeared as I blinked again. Whose hand was that? I shook myself and put it from my mind. Did they drugged me too?

I returned to my search, ignoring the pain. It didn't take long for me to come across a market place; it was right next to the gallows. I looked at the bloodstained wood, and the lonely ropes, swinging slightly in the wind. I stared for a long moment, wondering if they were still aloud to hang people in crazy towns such as this. I shuddered and paid –in florins, which I had decided couldn't possibly be real – the man who gazed at me curiously through his thick black beard.

"_Grazie_." Slipped through my lips as I took the clothes and leather boots that folded down at the top and walked away briskly, aiming to get as far away from that place of death as possible. A funny feeling was swirling around in my stomach, and I didn't like it. "I've a feeling I'm not in Australia anymore…" I murmured to myself, inspecting the outfit I had purchased. I planted my butt on a wooden crate just sitting there on the side of the road and unwrapped the string and hessian cloth, tucking it beneath my leg as I let the tunic free. It was black with white embroidery around the hem, and was clearly designed to be quite…revealing, but that's what the white linen shirt was for. I looked critically then at the black pants. They were very skinny and would undoubtedly be very tight as well; if it weren't for the thickness of the material, I would have thought they were leggings. Interesting.

Now came the next problem; getting changed. It wasn't like I had a house to go to, and I'm not sure if public toilets even existed back in whatever time these people were trying to recreate.. So what? I'd just get changed in an alley? No way!

Apparently, I didn't have to worry all that much, the answer came to me as I sat there with my clothes in my lap and a confused, worried look on my face as I tried to figure out what I could do.

"Signorina Marietta? Is that you?" I looked up in confusion to see a kindly looking man wearing a red beret and cape, with very dark blonde shoulder length hair. After stepping toward me, his narrowed blue eyes relaxed and he smiled, seemingly relieved.

"Oh! It is you! Madonna Maria said that Federico was absolutely livid when he couldn't find you yesterday!" My eyebrows rose slightly higher than before and the man must have mistaken my 'WTF-is-he-going-on-about-and-should-I-be-scared?' face for my 'oh-shiat-really?' face. "But not with you my dear!" he quickly assured me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "He is angry with himself. He thinks he has upset you somehow and in turn, now he is upset! But I am sure you two will patch up whatever argument you have had this time, you always do." His smile seemed to grow wider and he winked.

My eyebrows fell back down in confusion and "Uhhhh…" was all that came out of my mouth. Seemingly oblivious my obvious confusion, he began picking up all my newly bought clothes and packing them neatly on top of the box of blank canvases he was carrying.

"Now, we should really get you home before your mother discovers that you have been wandering about without a chaperone!" He picked up my boots and started walking briskly off down the street, leaving me there still going, "Uhhhh…" so intelligently. Then, my brain kick-starting at the fact that my three-quarters of a pouch full worth of brand new clothes were disappearing into the crowd along with a long red cape I leapt to my feet and tripped after him, forgetting to hold up my dress. Who was this guy?

"Hey! Wait up!" I called out, frustrated as I tried to get through the increasing crowd. The man either couldn't hear me or was just ignoring me. "Excuse me! Pardon me! Excuse me!" I said over and over again as I slipped through the people, standing on my tiptoes, straining to see over people's heads. Considering how short I was it didn't help much. Soon I lost sight of him in the crowd.

"Shit." I whispered looking around. "That dick's got my clothes."

"Marietta!" came a call. Who the hell is Marietta? Wait, didn't red beret guy call me that? I turned toward the shout and saw him standing in a doorway waving madly at me. I nodded, sighing in relief and frustration as I began pushing and shoving people out of my way to reach him, ignoring the protests and dodging the angry shoves I got back. Glowering, I took my clothes from the top of his box and tucked them securely under my arm as he grinned at me. "I'll not take a moment, Signorina. Please," he swung open the heavy wooden door, using only one hand and gestured for me to enter, "_Entrare_."

I looked at him for a moment, incomprehensively.

Entrar-é ? Entr. Enter? Oh. Duh. I stepped inside cautiously and stopped on the rising to appreciate what I saw. Covering the majority of the back wall were bookshelves filled to burst.

On the tables in the middle of the room were piles of papers, various feathered quills, ink pots, more books, and impressive little sculptures.

"Is this your…?" I asked as he closed the door behind us, bustling past me to place the box of canvases on one of the desks. I noticed a large fireplace in the wall to the left.

"My workplace. My place of thoughts and ideas. Of failures and successes," he looked sheepishly at me then, "There are not very many of those, I must admit."

I raised my eyebrows looking around, trying to take everything in. It was incredibly homely and warm and inviting and I could barely fight the urge to inspect the multitude of books before me. Descending several short stairs in the room, I subtly began running my eyes over the paper, which upon closer inspection looked thicker, more like parchment which seemed to be covered in sketches and drawings and… mirror writing?

"Are you alright, Signorina?" I was startled by the sound of his voice as my confused and curious mind began buzzing. He sounded nervous as I turned my eyes back to him.

"Hmm?" I asked, confused, standing there with my clothes under my arm and my boots in my hand.

"Are you ill?" he asked, wringing his hands.

I frowned, "Um, no, I don't think so. Why?"

"It is only…" he coughed awkwardly, "You seem… different."

I blinked slowly at him, tense, "I am. Different."

He stared steadily at me a long moment not looking at all like he believed it and then shook himself, an expression coming to his face which gave me the impression that he thought I was screwing with him. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile onto his face and walking off to another room to the right, past a staircase to the upper floor, calling as he went, "I shall fetch something for you to drink, I think. Make yourself at home, Signorina," and then he disappeared into the depths of his home.

I stood awkwardly, trying desperately to figure out if I had ever met him before, why he thought my name was Marietta, and why the sketches and writing on the parchment seemed so darn familiar. He returned with a pitcher of water, two cups and two slices of bread with jam on a platter and placed it on the table beside me, gesturing to it invitingly with a smile as he offered me a stool. I thanked him and sat, quickly devouring the bread and almost inhaling the water, realising that I quite literally could not remember the last time I had eaten. As I relaxed, the man skittered about, reading a passage from a book and then hurrying over to add to a sketch and then moving onto scribble in a journal and then back to the book again and so on, which I watched with growing amusement. He seemed like a lovely, thoughtful and quiet man, who didn't seem to not like me, but who was certainly afraid of me. Why that was I had absolutely no clue for I was certain that I had never met him before. I turned over what information I had gathered thus far in my mind.

I awoke on a stone bench with no memory of how I got there, in a town I wasn't familiar with, which was possibly an Italian Renaissance recreation town surely somewhere still in Australia, where I had now met this strange man who addressed me by the name Marietta. Which isn't my name. I was alone and confused and quite frankly, a little bit scared. And so, I decided to make a friend.

"My name isn't Marietta."

The man stopped from where he was writing and stared up at me with a single eyebrow raised, "What do you mean?"

I wiped my mouth and brushed a few stray crumbs from the lap of my dress, "My name isn't Marietta."

He looked me up and down then, as if I had suddenly lost my mind. He chuckled, "Of course you are! I have known you for several years now, Signorina. I would recognise you anywhere."

I frowned and shook my head, "No, you haven't. I don't know who you are. I've never met you before."

He looked at me strangely, "Are you trying to confuse me, Signorina? If you are I have to say it is unamusing and quite childish."

"I'm not lying. I have no idea who you are or where I am. And I am not Marietta." I spoke seriously to him, trying to express the full severity of my words without jumping to my feet, flipping a table and jumping out the window, screaming as I went.

There was a window on the back wall of his workshop, but the sunlight streaming from it didn't reach any further than the hem of my dress, which, might I add was covered in dirt.

The man was surrounded by light, however, and the thin strands of his hair shone a brilliant gold while his beret and cape looked redder than blood.

_Blood. So much blood. _

The strange thought came from nowhere, and I quickly shook off odd feeling that accompanied it, focussing on keeping eye contact with the man, silently pleading with him to believe me. His eyes searched mine for a long moment, completely unamused, disbelieving and increasingly exasperated. Then, they widened.

"Your eyes," he gasped. "I did not notice before!"

That was entirely unexpected, I was taken aback, "What?" The man stepped toward me and grabbed me by the upper arm, pulling me toward him, into the light of the sun. As it enveloped my face and I blinked at the brightness of it, I heard the man gasp again.

"_Mio dio_!" He whispered. Squinting at him, I grew concerned. What was wrong with my eyes?

"What?" I demanded. He just shook his head, leaning closer and narrowing his eyes as if critically examining a painting.

"What?!" I almost yelled. He pulled back and looked at me with new eyes, filled with wonder. It was completely silent for a moment. "Your eyes are blue. Bluer than the sky. Deep, entrancing blue," he murmured a slight frown on his face. "Are you a witch? Is this magic?" He exclaimed, still gazing into my eyes, flickering between them.

"I'm not really sure, to be honest. If it is it's not my fault. I'm not a witch, I promise." I shot him a crooked, reassuring smile.

"Well then," he laughed in amazement, causing his blue eyes to crinkle at the corners and sparkle even more than before, "Who _are_ you?"

I let out a little laugh of incredulity myself. He believed me! All at once, every tense muscle in my body relaxed beneath his hands, still firm on my upper arms, and my smiled widened happily

"Jessica," I introduced, "Jessica Raso."


	4. Chapter 3 (2014)

After that, it took me a while to get anything out of him. He fluttered around his workshop opening and closing books, scribbling down notes on random pieces of paper and muttering excitedly to himself. Every now and again he'd walk back over to me and gaze wondrously up into my still blue eyes, and he never did stop asking me questions.

"It is strange, you look exactly like Marietta, in every way, but for your eyes, of course. It is simply incredible. I can barely believe you are not her. Do you remember anything of Marietta's life?"

"No, like I've said, I'm not her. I never was. I've always been me."

"Interesting. Forgive me for asking, but are you certain you have not possessed her body in some way? Or somehow swapped your minds into opposite bodies?"

I frowned at him, "Of course not. I've told you; I'm not a witch and I'm not a demon."

"But you must have had your own body."

"This is my own body." I insisted firmly, wholly believing it. I didn't understand his train of thought. I was me. I had always been me. I had no idea who Marietta was or why she looked like me but she was not me and I was not her.

Leo made an infuriatingly thoughtful sound at that and scribbled something down on a piece of paper, over a sketch. The questions continued with me nodding and shaking my head in response until he got to the more important questions, the ones I had to think carefully before replying to.

"Where are you from, Signorina Jessica? Venetia? Roma? Or here in Firenze? Hmm?" He smiled up at me, eagerly awaiting my answer. What could I tell him? Would it really matter if I lied? After a moment's consideration I decided to be honest with my new friend; "A long way from here," I told him.

"What was it called? Is it across a sea? The Mediterranean? The Celtic? Are you from Britain?" he urged. My mouth opened and shut as I thought. Surely he knew about the world, even living in this crazy city.

"Australia," I smiled.

"Is that a country?" he asked, his boyish features showing obvious confusion from where he stood on the other side of the table, quill in hand.

"Um… no. It's a continent. An island, really, but a continent as well... But I guess it's a country too," I stumbled over my explanation.

"Oh, I-I have never heard of the island Australia," He told me, seemingly worryingly sincere and then suddenly gasped, startling me. "Oh! But I have gotten ahead of myself! _Dove sono i miei modi?_" he growled to himself, dropping the quill and walking around to grasp my empty hand. "Signorina Jessica, let me introduce myself. I am Leonardo Da Vinci, artist and inventor," he kissed my hand charmingly, but I didn't have it in me to blush. I had frozen. I stared at him with a rude, amused expression and then laughed out loud.

"Is that so?" I drawled as he stood up and released my hand. He nodded, still with that boyish smile on his face. "R_igh_t," I rolled my eyes and shook my head, "What year were you born, then?"

He thought a moment, still smiling at me, "I was born on the 15th of April, 1452."

Was he crazy? Seeing the earnestness in his blue eyes I felt the sudden and unpleasant feeling of doubt wash over me. "And what year is it now?" I asked him, mentally reassuring myself.

"Why, it is 1476, Signorina."

My mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that the people of this crazy town had decided to choose to go by a different year than the one it actually was, which actually made a lot of sense, and so I didn't panic or freak out in any particular way. I simply swallowed the doubt and accompanying nausea and smiled at the man who had decided to be referred to as Leonardo Da Vinci. He wasn't hurting anyone with his obsession, so who was I to judge?

_He is not lying._

I flinched violently as my left thumb burst with sharp, stinging pain and I clenched my fist tightly, my eyes fixing to a point on the ground as I focussed on not bursting into pained and frightened tears. There was that disembodied voice again, from before. This was decidedly abnormal for me, and most certainly did not bode well.

"Do you have anywhere I could change, Leonardo?" I heard myself ask, trying and failing to pull my face into a smile.

"Of course, Signorina! Please, follow me." He hurried up the stairs to my right, looking over his shoulder and indicating for me to follow. I gathered my things, refraining from using my left hand as I ascended the creaky, wooden staircase. "You must excuse the mess; it has been quite a while since I have housed anyone," he apologized profusely as he kicked aside books and papers, clearing the path. He stopped at the second door and smiled at me before swinging it open.

"It is not much, but I am sure we can do something to make it seem more… homely." I stepped inside the small room. There was a window on the back wall looking out onto the street, a bed along the left wall beside it, a small mahogany bedside table and a chest of drawers opposite the bed. "You will be staying here? I mean," he laughed nervously, "I wouldn't think that you would want to go back to Marietta's home as you are now?"

I placed my boots on the floor by the bed and the clothes on top of the clean, white blankets on the bed and then I turned to him, suddenly awkward, "No, not really," I admitted.

"Could I? Stay here, I mean. If it wouldn't be too much trouble." I bit my lip and stared at him hopefully.

Immediately the boyish smile returned in full force and he stepped forward from where he was in the doorway, grasping my arms in his hands. His eyes sparkled enthusiastically, "Of course it would not be any trouble! You are very welcome! It does get quite lonely all by myself with naught but my thoughts for company," he beamed.

"You're sure?" I asked, a huge smile stretching my cheeks. He nodded enthusiastically, and I laughed in relief, "Thank you! Thank you, so much, really!"

"Oh_, è davvero nessun problema,_" he let go of my arms and waved me off, blushing. "Well!" he stepped back further, "I will let you change then, shall I?" I nodded and he walked out the door, smiling at me as he pulled it closed, "I will be downstairs if you need me." I smiled once more, and then he was gone.

Immediately, my smile left my face and my shoulders dropped. A large gust of air left my lungs. I raised my hands to settled on my head, lacing my fingers on top of my hair, and then I turned a slow 360, taking in my…my new room. I had no idea what to think about the situation I was in. All that mattered, I supposed, was that I had clothes, a roof over my head, food, water, and was in no imminent danger. Everything else, like the entire 'I'm in 1476-land with Leonardo Da Vinci' thing wasn't as alarming as it was interesting and definitely something I could cope with.

After a few moments to collect myself, I checked that the door and window were closed securely before I began changing. I took the green pouch from my hip and placed it on the bedside table.

It took a while to release my stupid corset as the bindings were down my back, but eventually I was struggling out of it and throwing it spitefully onto the bed. Layer after layer of skirts fell from my hips and onto the floor and then, I was standing in the middle of my new room, completely naked. I looked down at my body, and then at the clothes I was going to get changed into. Was I supposed to wear underwear? Did they even have underwear here?

I sighed, in a predicament. Wait. Bindings. I looked down at the ridiculous amount of material that made up the skirts of my old dress, sighed guiltily and then got to work.

Twenty or so minutes later I was descending the stairs, feeling entirely satisfied with my clothing purchases. The tunic exaggerated my slim body and curves beautifully, the pants clung to my legs as I thought they would, but weren't nearly as uncomfortable around the nether regions as I feared they would be. And my boots were soft but durable. It was perfect.

I had torn off a thin strip of material from my skirts and tied my hair back in a messy ponytail.

I stopped half way down the stairs when I heard voices coming from the doorway. The rising was filled with light and I could see the edge of Leonardo's shadow. Slowly I continued my descent, my soft leather boots barely padding on the wooden stairs as I went.

"Ah, Madonna! So good to see you!" I heard Leonardo exclaim earnestly.

"_Buon giorno_, Leonardo. This is my son, Ezio," a woman's voice replied.

"A pleasure," Leonardo stated happily.

"_Il piacere è tutto mio,_" came the polite reply, the voice, deep, smooth and utterly charming.

"Have you got the paintings I asked for?" the woman asked politely, sounding amused.

"Ah! Yes, of course! Just a moment!" Leonardo came into view, a massive smile on his face and his beret more tilted on his head than before. He froze briefly as he saw me standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking curious. "Ah!" he cried, walking toward me and looking me up and down appreciatively, "_Bellissimo_, Jessica! It's perfect!" he gushed, straightening out the sleeves of my shirt.

I twisted my mouth, embarrassed, "_Grazie, _Leonardo." Again, the word slipped from my lips.

Leonardo seemed to remember himself, "Oh!" he gasped, looking over his shoulder, his smile gone and suddenly wide eyed. "Maria must not see you! She is Federico's mother. She will not hesitate to drag you home!" he whispered. My eyebrows raised and I nodded in understanding, "Don't worry, I'll stay out of sight." I told him. "Don't you have some paintings to get?"

"Oh! _Si,_ I do!" His smile returned and he patted me gently on the cheek once before hurrying over to a box full of canvases, which unlike the ones he had earlier, were covered with colour.

"I will return soon, Jessica. There is food in the cupboards; help yourself," he told me before he walked back to the door, closing it behind him.

I spent the next hours devouring what did indeed seem to be this Leonardo's own work. None of it seemed printed or copied and many of the sketches, paintings and sculptures seemed to be genuinely half-done. I had studied little of Da Vinci's work, but enough to know it when I saw it, and so I became increasingly disturbed as ridiculous thoughts began to enter my mind. I instead distracted myself with the inspection of the hundreds of literally handwritten books that lined the shelves. Leonardo's library was beyond my wildest dreams, with subjects ranging from amateur romance to the anatomy of a frog to a book of constellations and how they have predicted history.

Leonardo found me curled up on the couch, chomping on a red apple and reading feverishly through a book completely dedicated to insistence that the earth was the centre of the universe, and that everything else revolved around it. Although clearly scientific in nature, the concept of religion was consistently associated with the theory. Although I knew it all completely ridiculous, reading such nonsense written in such a certain and mature manner was a new experience for me and such deep-set ignorance was in a strange way, interesting.

Leonardo watched me for a long moment, before commenting, "Jessica, that book has no pictures in it."

Surprised, I looked up at him as if he were a chicken that had just grown a head taller, pulled on a pair of tights and started doing the can-can. "I know. I'm not looking at pictures."

His eyebrows rose, "You can read?" he asked incredulously. Slowly, I nodded. He chuckled, thoroughly surprised, though not displeased, "Marietta could not. She said it was a great waste of time filling her head with useless knowledge that she would never use," he told me.

"Well, I can, Leonardo," I smiled.

"Indeed. What do you think of the book?"

"It's all a load of crap, honestly" I asked him, noticing the way his eyebrows shot up to the roof. "The fact is that the earth and the moon and all the planets for that matter revolve around the sun. It's a gravitational thing. As the earth revolves around the sun, the earth also spins on is own axis. That's how we get the seasons. And the moon, because of earth's gravitational pull revolves around us, and because of the moon's gravitational pull, the tides of the ocean occur…" I trailed off and shrugged. Looking at Leonardo I was confused at the shock on his face, which only caused to add to my steadily building sense of doubt that this was simply a backward, crazy town.

"How? What makes you say these things?" he stammered.

"Science, logic." I shook my head and shut the book quickly. "Forget it. Forget I said anything. If you repeated any of it you'd probably be killed for heresy by the Church, right? Heh. Hell, Isaac Newton won't even be around for another two hundred years…" I cleared my throat, put down my book and finished off my apple. Leonardo stared at me for a long moment, seemingly shaken. The sparkle remained strong in his blue eyes.

"Where you lived, this… Australia. Would you say that the civilisation is advanced?" he asked me suddenly.

After a moment of deliberating whether or not he was seriously implying that he had never heard of Australia before, I slowly answered, "Yes." There was a long silence and I began to feel uncomfortable with both my own thoughts and the look on Leonardo's face which encouraged them, "Look, it's—I'm tired. I'm goin' to bed." I moved toward the staircase, feeling Leonardo's eyes on me. I paused halfway up the flight, "_Buona sera_, Leonardo."

"Are you… are you an angel Jessica? Please, just tell me if you are, it will make more sense than anything my mind can come up with," Leonardo suddenly pleaded, frowning desperately at me, "You speak with Marietta Sanfilippo's body, and yet you are not her. The words you speak seem blasphemous but sound so wise, so _sapendo_ as if they held the truth to the world."

I burst out laughing at that and had to take a long moment to compose myself, wondering at how alike we were in our confusion. Shaking my head, I objected, "No, no where near! I'm human, just like you. I talk how I do because where I come from things are… well, they're just very different. I'm not special. I'm not different. I'm me." I smiled at him fondly. "Goodnight, Leo."

After a long moment, a small smile appeared on his lips as well, "Goodnight _Angelo_."


	5. Chapter 4 (2014)

Several days passed settling in, and they sure were interesting. I quickly learned to survive on a diet of pasta, cheese, bread, fruit, chicken, fish, giblets, various innards and stew, all cooked using a pot or a pan over a small fire. Leo had a habit of putting far too much spice and herbs on every single dish he created, which I refrained from commenting upon as he always seemed eager and proud to present me with the meal he had slaved over for hours during the day. He was not judgemental of the fact that I was a woman who had absolutely no idea how to cook anything in a Renaissance kitchen, and was happy to cook for me without complaint. I insisted on washing up after every meal so I didn't feel completely useless. I was pretty hesitant about the water at first, but after several days of drinking it and remaining alive, I relaxed.

The worst thing I had experienced so far, however, was not the questionable water, or the canvas and straw mattress I had to sleep on every night, nor was it the smell from the room in the back behind the curtain where Leo told me I really should never go. It was a small room called the _closet_. A bit smaller than the average modern toilet cubicle, it had a door and a small window just above height level to let in fresh air. Yes, I have to say having to do my business into a small pot and then put the lid on top and march it through the house and out the back door to deposit it in the back alley was most definitely the worst experience of my life.

Leo turned out to be an amazing, intelligent and compassionate man and the conversations we had could go on forever if we let them, but sitting in the same room, looking at the same surroundings for so long when there was an entire city out there to explore left me itching. Normally, I was more the 'stay at home, read books and play video games' type of person, but this wasn't exactly a normal situation, and I had decided to embrace it fully. So, six days after I had first arrived, I walked out the front door, calling out an "I'll be back soon!" to Leo who had buried himself in his work and was talking to himself again.

I pulled on my boots and fell out into the street, forging the surroundings of Leonardo's workshop into my brain. I had abandoned my little green money pouch for a more secure dark brown one that was attached to a double leather belt around my waist. Also attached to the belt was a simple steel dagger that Leo had given me the morning after I had arrived. "For protection," he had said, and so immediately I had cut my finger on its sharp blade, much to his amusement.

I walked through the streets of Firenze, my blue eyes taking in every detail of the city, soaking up the cultured atmosphere and the warm sun. It was a very beautiful day; blue skies, sunshine and a slight breeze. Children ran laughing across the cobblestoned ground, merchants called from their stalls, groups of young ladies giggled at charming young men and old men sat on benches grumbling about the changing times. My black hair swung behind me, pulled back into a dark purple ribbon Leo had used to replace the bit of material I was using before, and there was a notable skip in my step as I willingly lost myself to the flow of the city, following the crowds this way and that, soaking in the scenery and staring in awe at the occasional statue or beautifully crafted building.

Then all of the sudden I felt an overwhelming urge to move to the left.

Trusting my gut, I stepped sideways out of the way, just in time to see a brown caped figure with a long red sash running past. The man wore a white hood and tunic, and I watched as he disappeared into the crowd.

Burning with curiosity, I followed him, my curiosity turning slowly to worry and caution as the bobbing white hood drew closer and closer to the square where I had seen the gallows several days before.

Sure enough, when I arrived, there was absolute chaos. An enormous crowd surrounding the wooden frame all screaming and cursing in a roaring cacophony of sound, at three people standing battered and bruised behind the loosely hanging nooses with their arms tied behind their backs.

I wasn't curious anymore. This wasn't just some bored wander around. They were going to kill those people. And as I walked closer, I noticed with a rising horror that that short one on the right wasn't a man; it was just boy, no older than Tommy.

The road that I had come out of was on the left side of the gallows, while the crowd was in front. Up on that stand, closest to me were three men; a guard, a fat man wearing a dark hood over his head, and an even fatter man who was spouting out accusations at the two men and the boy. Something about treason against the city and it's people. I couldn't clearly hear his words over the screaming of the crowd and the pounding of my heart in my ears. The tallest man, standing up with his arms behind his back yelled something at the fat man, and the fat man was smiling cruelly and replying with a sneer on his face.

The last thing I heard was; "I hereby sentence you all to_ death_," and then, I was moving closer. My dagger was ready in my hand, and a certain look was on my face. This certain look was the same one I always pulled just before I did something really, really stupid.

The oldest man was yelling at the fat man, and there was a white hood approaching the gallows in the corner of my eye, and a guard was securing the noose over the boy's neck. Everything seemed to be in slow motion as I walked closer, toward the stairs up to where the fat men were. The middle man seemed to sense me as I approached because his head turned. His eyes were sad and terrified, but when they landed on me, they widened.

"Marietta…" I saw his mouth form the word but I couldn't hear it. There was no sound in my head but for my own heartbeat, which proved eerily steady and calm. For one long, lasting moment, time froze and I wondered at what exactly it was I was doing up there with a knife in my hand and what exactly it was I planned to do next. The moment I decided I should probably have thought this through, time began once more, now seeming impossibly, incomprehensively fast.

I ran the last few steps toward the short stairs and leapt, skipping four of them completely and hopping up the last two. I ran toward the nooses and the males whose necks they were attached to. The guard stood near the lever, his gloved hands were wrapped around it ready to take the floor out from underneath them. I stretched out my arm, inside hoping, hoping…

My dagger seemed to have a golden glow as it sliced through one, two, three ropes, severing them completely. I didn't pause as I ran up to the guard with the lever, lifting my leg and nailing him in the chest, the force of my kick sending him flying from the edge of the stand. Suddenly, the oldest man, with his thin, bloodied nose and long, lank hair and the severed noose around his neck threw himself toward me. He turned his back to me and I hurriedly sliced through his binds. Immediately, he charged into a startled guard, quickly disarming him and running him through with his own blade. Women screamed and men yelled as they began to flee. Guards stationed around the square swarmed through the crowd toward the stand.

"Run!" the eldest man commanded the others, whom I assumed were his sons, but they didn't move. I drew the kid to me, cutting quickly through his binds before moving over to the eldest son, who stared at me wide eyed, as if he couldn't believe I was real. _"Federico!"_ his father yelled again. I cut through his binds and helped the kid remove the noose from his neck. Their father ducked beneath the high swing of a guard, kicking him back into two others. They fell in a heap to the ground. Immediately another attacked, and another. The eldest man parried and kicked and slashed at the guards, keeping them away from his sons and I. Federico stared as I returned quickly to his still, shocked form and reached up to remove the noose. I threw it away. "Marietta," he whispered.

"We have to go," I told him urgently, my eyes flickering behind him where several guards were clambering up the sides of the stand, behind their father. Beyond them, a white hooded figure, the man I had followed here, stood within a group of guards. The guard he fought was a brute of a man, his armour thick and heavy, and his weapon, a massive axe, crashed loudly to the ground again and again as he narrowly missed the smaller, less armoured man each time. Federico grabbed my wrist in one hand suddenly, and his little brother's in the other and ran us down the opposite stairs to where his father was fighting off the guards.

"Ezio, run!" I heard their father yell.

"But—!" The white hooded man dived around the brute he was fighting. He swung at the guard but his sword merely glanced off the shiny metal. He had no chance.

"Now! ARGH!" Federico froze his running at the cry, and as we turned our heads back to the fight, I gasped in horror. Federico yelled in anger, and the little boy began to cry.

"_FATHER!"_ The white hooded man screamed as his father gazed down at the two swords in his chest. His own sword fell from his grasp. His head lolled back on his shoulders. His legs buckled beneath him. Even from here, on the other side of the square, I could tell that the brave, heroic man, their father, was dead.

"I'LL KILL YOU FOR WHAT YOU'VE DONE! I SWEAR I WILL!" the white hooded man screamed. My head swam as I stared sickly at the bodies littering the square. Blood stained the shining metal of breastplates and the cobblestone ground below them. Federico's chest heaved beside me, his body shaking with emotion. His large hand crushed my own. The kid's small shoulders trembled with his sobs. His wide brown eyes were wet and traumatised. My eyes trailed across the square, to a small, dark alleyway where a shady figure of a darkly hooded man stood, watching. Cold, black eyes met my own as my heart pounded in my chest and adrenaline coursed through my veins. I held his gaze for a long, horrible moment, and then he disappeared in the darkness, and my attention was drawn to the half a dozen guards closing in on us. "Come on!" I twisted my hand so that I was the one with a hold of Federico's wrist, and I ran, dragging them both along behind me. I could hear the guards shouting behind us, could hear their footsteps on the cobbles, and could hear the clanging of their swords.

I panted as I sprinted, my lungs holding out for the moment and my legs strong as my boots pounded across the cobblestones. I thought of my parents then, and of my sister Jasmin and my little brother Tommy, and my mind was seeped with the fear that I would never be able to see them again. This was all too real. I could really die here. With these oh-so-positive thoughts, I swallowed hard and poured on the speed. "Come _on_," I urged the boys, tugging on Federico's wrist harder, trying to get him to snap out of the shock he was certainly experiencing and focus on the situation at hand.

Then the boy tripped. And Federico tripped. And I tripped. Laying sprawled on the floor, my hands and knees grazed and my wrist uncomfortably tender, I resisted the urge to wet myself as I turned my head to look over my shoulder to see a lightly armoured guard with a short sword sprint closer and closer to us. We had seemingly lost the larger group of guards. I clambered quickly to my feet, dragging the sobbing and terrified young boy with me, wrapping my hand around his arm as I stumbled backward, getting ready to continue running. "Come on!" I yelled to his older brother, Federico, who had hit his head when he fell and who had taken several moments longer to right himself. Those several moments were all it took.

I yelled out in warning as the thin, swift guard came dangerously close to Federico, who turned to face him at the precise moment the guard sent his sword careening toward his head. Federico dodged quickly, avoiding it skilfully even as he blinked hard, shaking his head to regain focus. I pulled the kid behind me as Federico sent a fist into the side of the guard's head. The guard stumbled back at the force but quickly righted himself. He held his short sword at the ready. The men circled one another. The guard, confident with his weapon and his opponent's lack of, swung at Federico's side. Federico stepped out of the way, stepped into the guard, turned his body and sent a hard punch into the guard's unprotected side. The guard gasped, stumbling back, holding his side. Federico stood tall, watching him and waiting. The guard bent over, his face twisting in agony. Federico seemed to have broken his ribs. The guard took a breath and attacked Federico once more, his sword high above his head. Federico ducked low to the ground and kicked out a leg, tripping the guard. The moment the man hit the ground, Federico was on him. He grasped the hand holding the sword, digging in his fingers to force him to let go of the weapon. The guard tried to sit up. Federico punched him hard in the nose. The guard fell on his back, blood splurting from his nose and upper lip. He groaned, defeated.

Federico stepped away from him, glancing up to see the coast clear. He turned to face us, his shaggy brown hair in disarray. I let out a breath I didn't realise I had been holding. Federico stepped toward us. I saw the guard moving, too late. As I took a breath in to cry a warning, the guard took up his sword, rolled onto his side and stabbed out. The sword cut through Federico's right leg like butter. I was silence in horror as I stared at the sharp stick of metal protruding from the front of Federico's pants. Federico lowered his eyes to stare at the sword in sick confusion. The guard yanked it out, the metal sliding through meat, disappearing from sight. Behind me, Petruccio screamed. Federico collapsed. Blood splattered across the cobblestones. It spread along Federico's pant leg. It ran down the guard's sword, dripping from the tip. An ungodly scream of pain ripped from Federico's lips. I released the kid, stumbling dully toward the injured man, my eyes fixed on the guard behind him who was rising to his feet. I wrapped my arms around Federico. He buried his face in my shoulder, breathing erratically. His large, bruised and bloody hand fisted in the material on my back.

There was a sudden flash of white and a violet slash of red. A large, white form hit the guard from behind. The guard would have crashed to the ground had the sword through his chest not have been holding him upright. His own short sword, slick with Federico's blood clattered to the ground. He let out a wet gurgle and went limp. The white hooded man, the White Hood, as I decided to dub him in the absence of a name, removed his sword from the body of the guard and returned it to his sheathe, still bloodied. The guard's body crumpled to the ground.

The White Hood strode to Federico, whom I assumed he was related to, and quickly looked over his wound. "Ezio," Federico panted, "It is bad."

"You are going to be fine," The White Hood stated determinedly, placing Federico's arm over his shoulder and urging him to his feet. The sound of clanking armour could be heard close by. We were not safe yet. I quickly took Federico's other arm, ignoring the blood that covered his hand, which dripped onto my tunic. His arm over my shoulders, we hurried away, out of sight of the guards. Looking up, I saw that Federico had tears streaming down his face and was biting his lip to keep from crying out loud. I clamped my teeth together, feeling my nostrils quaver and my vision blur with tears. The boy hurried along beside me, his breath racked with sobs and dirty streaks of water running down his cheeks, a traumatised look in his eyes as he kept a tight hold on my tunic.

I could no longer hear the yelling of the guards nor the clanking of their armour, and there seemed to be no one on the streets. We were completely alone. I slowed our pace, wondering if we were really safe, and where to go now that we were.

"Where now?" I quietly asked Federico. Wincing at the grey tint to his skin, the cold sweat beading on his forehead and the dark rings forming around his eyes.

"_La Rosa Colta_," a deep answered suddenly. I looked over Federico's head to the White Hood, whose clothing wasn't so very white anymore. His head was lowered so I couldn't see his face. "How is he?" he asked, walking over and taking Federico's other arm over his shoulders. I could lie. I could make a joke. I could do so many things, but my god, these boys had just lost their father.

"Not good," I told him gravely, "He needs help. Right now."


	6. Chapter 5 (2014)

As the White Hood led us through the streets toward what he said was our safe house, I began replaying what I had just done through my head, barely able to believe that I wasn't dreaming. I looked down at the still shocked face of the kid, still hanging on to my tunic with a death grip. His round face was covered in tears and I couldn't imagine what it would be like to watch your father killed before your eyes. For a moment, Tommy's smiling face flashed in front of my eyes, and when it disappeared, my left arm instinctively wound around his shoulders, offering what little comfort I could. He glanced up at me with terrified, agonised dark brown eyes, far older than his age. Unable to comprehend the emotions, I had to look away, my heart still pounding in my chest.

"We're here," the White Hood announced.

I looked up to see a large building with roses climbing the walls beside the rich mahogany door and deep red material lining the edge of the roof. The place looked beautiful, but the strong smell of perfume and something else, something almost salty hung heavily in the air around it. I wrinkled my nose at the smell, frowning in disgust, wondering where I had smelled such a thing before.

The White Hood didn't bother to knock on the door before he entered. We burst through it, and the now dead weight on my arm wasn't very re-assuring. Federico was unconscious. Looking over my shoulder I saw that there was a trail of bloody footsteps leading out the door and back down the street. He had lost a lot of blood. I tried my best to hold back my frightened tears and pressed my lips together firmly to stop them from trembling.

"Ezio?" came a suave female voice. A woman dressed in a dress and hood the same red as Leo's cape came into view. Her breasts were exploding over the top of her corset and suddenly, I realised what the smell was, what she was, what this place was. I stiffened, and seeing the realisation in my eyes, the woman smiled shortly, looking me up and down, noting every tremble in my hands and lips, and the open fear and shock in my eyes.

"_Ciao, signorina_. I am Paola, welcome to _La Rosa Colta_" she introduced herself to me with a slight bow of her head. Her eyes swept over Federico then, seemingly dead in my arms and her smile swiftly vanished, her deep brown eyes settling calmly on his injured leg.

"Follow me." She turned to a group of girls I hadn't noticed, congregated on the first rising of the staircase, all wearing revealing dresses. She spouted out a couple of words in Italian that I didn't have a hope of understanding and for a moment I wondered what language I myself was speaking, for surely they were speaking English, as I definitely had no knowledge of the Italian language besides a couple of the basics. As curious a thought as it was, now was not the time to ponder on it.

A young woman wearing a green dress that sat too low on her chest and rode up too high on her hips came over and gently led the kid away from us, and sat him down on one of the plush, expensive looking couches to our left. He looked worriedly back at me, but I gave him a small reassuring smile. At least, I hoped it looked reassuring.

The White Hood and I carried Federico into one of the back rooms on the ground floor and laid him down on the extravagant bed. Thin, white material hung from the roof, and the smell coming from the incense burning in the corner of the room seemed to make my eyes play tricks on me. Everything seemed darker, more intimate. The candles flickered on the walls and a soft breeze flew in from the window, picking up the thin curtains.

I stepped back, getting out of the way of the women as they bustled through the door with bandages, a bucket of water and several rags and began to work on his leg. They cut off his pants at the thigh and then started cleaning the wound. I couldn't watch. The injury was horrific. I had assumed that it would have been an altogether clean cut which would require stitches, sterilisation and a bunch of bandages, but something had gone wrong. The injury was not a slit but a gouge, dark red and swimming with blood. At the sight of pale white which I presumed was his bone I turned my back on the bed, staring hard at the wall, trying to ignore the smell of his blood, trying to not throw up. My hands and jaw were clenched, and my shoulders were hunched.

I could feel a pair of eyes burning a hole in the back of my head but I didn't turn to see who they belonged to.

I heard Federico cry out in pain and turned my head to gaze at his face. He had woken up and was now trying to sit up, wanting to see the damage, completely ignoring Paola's urging for him to stay still, "Ezio."

My eyes met two dark golden orbs, shining in the shadow beneath the hood for a mere moment before they turned to focus intently on Paola's urgent face, "Yes?"

"You must keep him still," she ordered sternly, moving aside for him as he took Federico by both shoulders and forced him to lie back down on the bed. Federico's eyes were scrunched shut as he groaned. He clasped the White Hood's upper arms, his knuckles white. I stood, watching the scene, breathing too quickly and wishing I was anywhere else.

I could go home now, back to Leo and his confusing mumbling, I thought suddenly, I had done my part, now I could go. I wasn't needed here. This wasn't my place; I didn't _want_ it to be my place. I could just leave this family to their story and no longer take part in any of it. Whatever had caused this was not my problem.

Paola, as if sensing my thoughts looked up at me with empathetic eyes. I stared back through wet eyes, and her small nod before she looked back down to Federico's leg indicated that she understood my plight.

_You mustn't leave, Jessica_, the voice told me sternly as my left palm burned.

"What could I possibly do to help here?" I whispered under my breath, sniffing as I turned to stare blankly out the window.

_You mustn't leave,_ the voice simply told me once again. I sniffed deeply, wiping at the tears leaking from my eyes and registering the sudden light-headed and numb feeling I was experiencing, accompanied by the sharp taste of bile in my mouth. I turned abruptly on my heel to walk out the door, out of the building and back to Leo's. I didn't make it.

"Marietta…" I heard him groan, causing me to pause in the doorway. "Please. Do not leave me again," he begged, his voice revealing his immense pain. I turned my head to the side, not turning. My face showed my indecision. "Please," his voice broke off as he cried out in pain. That did it.

Before I could think it through, I had returned to the room, kneeling beside his head, taking his hand and stroking his brown hair back from his sweaty, fevered forehead. "Okay," I whispered to him. He let out a small, relieved smile, his eyes sparkling with affection before his face crumpled into pain again, his hand crushing my own. I blame my decision on the intense, overwhelming level of incense in the room. It was messing with my head. The White Hood's hands disappeared from Federico's shoulders as the man relaxed under my ministrations. I glanced at him with a small smile as he sat in a nearby chair and watched Paola and the girls work.

I stayed for the entirety of the time it took for them to clean, sew and bandage his leg. I winced every time he cried out and cursed myself for even thinking of leaving him like this. Federico fell unconscious several minutes before they finished, his hand going limp in my own. I froze for a moment, and then relaxed as I watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest. I sighed in relief, letting go of his hand and clenching and unclenching my own, trying to get some amount of feeling back into it. I stepped away from the bed as one of the women began wiping his forehead with a wet cloth as the others cleaned up the blood.

"Come, let him rest now," Paola put one hand on the White Hood's shoulder and gently led him out of the room, inclining her head for me to do the same. I looked sadly down at Federico's sleeping form before I followed.

Once back out in the main foyer, I collapsed on one of the couches, sitting there with my legs apart in a very unfeminine manner, tipping back my head, closing my eyes and rubbing my hands down my face with a soft groan. Behind me, the White Hood and Paola were having a calm, quiet conversation which I unabashedly listened in on.

"Where is Pettrucio?" Now, with my eyes closed and using just my ears I realised with much surprise that the White Hood had the same voice as the man from Leonardo's the other day. Ezio, Federico's brother. Leo knew them both. Interesting.

"Upstairs with his mother and sister. He is exhausted," Paola told him, "And so are you it seems…"

Their conversation went on and on, but I blocked it out as a wave of fatigue flowed over me followed by an enormous headache. I groaned, leaning forward to rub at my temples, my shoulders and left palm aching. The noise apparently interrupted the conversation transpiring behind me, as they fell silent and I felt the woman sit down beside me, placing a delicate hand on my shoulder, "_Mia cara_, you must have experienced such a shock today, far more than a woman should ever have to. Do you have somewhere safe you can go and rest?" she asked me gently.

Licking my lips, my heart thudding deeply in my chest, I nodded. "I'm staying with Leonardo Da Vinci at the moment," I let out a long breath as I looked to an old, tall grandfather clock for the time, "He's bound be worried by now."

"I know the place. I could escort you there, if you would like," the White Hood offered.

I nodded slowly in assent, not entirely comfortable with the idea yet unable to see any other way of finding my way home. "Can you walk?" he inquired, offering a big hand to me. I took it gently, rising to my feet with a quiet, "Yes."

With a farewell to Paola and an awkward cheek kiss, we were on the streets.

The White Hood and I were silent for a long time, both as enveloped in our own thoughts. We took the back streets and alley ways, wanting to stay as much out of sight of guards who would no doubt be suspicious at the sight of our clothes covered in as much blood as they were. I wondered how Leo would react and hoped that he would be able to get it out. Few thoughts otherwise seemed ready to return to my mind, however. I wondered if I was experiencing shock, as except for those few tears by Federico's bedside and some slight trembling, I didn't feel any strong emotions concerning the event. This was followed by the questioning of how it was that Federico seemed to also know me by the name Marietta, as I had certainly never met him prior to saving his life. At least, I didn't think I had. I was just setting myself a reminder to sit Leo down to fully question him of the issue of this Marietta character whom no less than two people had mistaken me for as of today, when I was startled by the deep, smooth voice of the White Hood, or Ezio, "Why did you do it? Why did you save them?" I glanced up at him with wide eyes to see his jaw clenched, not looking at me.

I told him quietly, "It was the right thing to do."

"Because of Federico?" I shook my head and sniffed.

"No, your youngest brother, Petruccio. How old is he?"

"Petruccio is of ten and three years."

I let out a short breath, thinking he looked slightly younger, "Well, I don't believe a thirteen year old could ever be rightfully put to death, no matter what his crime."

"Everyone dies eventually," the White Hood told me gravely.

I nodded, "Yes, they do. But there's a time for people to die. For your little brother, being hung at thirteen? That was not right. Children shouldn't die before they've lived, and certainly not at the hands of another."

The White Hood fell silent and remained so until we reached Leo's. I stood there awkwardly in front of the door, staring at the darkening street behind him.

"Look, I'm—" I sniffed wetly, still feeling numb, "I'm sorry about your dad," I told him quietly, looking him in the eye, seeing the pain there.

He sighed heavily, wiping his hands down his face. "_Grazie_, Marietta," he murmured softly, before looking straight into my remorseful eyes, "For everything." I saw him swallow, his Adams apple bobbing rapidly, "If it weren't for you, Federico and Petruccio would be dead as well. I would have been too slow to save them. I do not understand how or why you do so, but… thank you."

"You're welcome, Ezio," I murmured, "Take care of them."

He nodded, "Of course."

I shot a small smile at him, "Until tomorrow."

"_Buona notte_, Marietta," the White Hood turned and walked away, his shape darkening in the evening light.

"It's Jessica…" I whispered, not expecting him to hear me. I turned and walked in the door, closing it gently behind me with a long sigh.

Inside, the fire was crackling in the fireplace, and there were several candles lit here and there on the tables. I had barely taken two steps from the rising when I was attacked by a red caped man. A red beret slid past my cheek as his arms enveloped me. I let out a small cry of alarm.

"_Mio Dio_, Jessica! _Ero cosí preoccupato!"_ Leonardo cried.

I immediately relaxed, "_Mi dispiace_, Leo. I got… held up." I hugged the man back, shortly before he pulled away sharply.

"'Held up' _il mio culo_! The guards are/ wandering around putting up wanted posters of the _fratelli_ Auditore and a woman fitting your description!" he cried, grasping my shoulders now and shaking me fiercely. "_Che diavolo stavi pensando?"_ he cried, worry in his eyes.

Hmm… _diavolo_, I think is hell, and there was a question mark on the end, so…

Seeing my confused face, Leonardo rolled his eyes and hugged me tightly again. "You're safe now, _Angelo,_" he sighed, seemingly reassuring himself of it more than I.

Leonardo released me, moving to lock the front door securely, with all three bolts. Talk about security. "You are absolutely filthy, Jessica," he commented as he returned, looking me over critically, his gaze settling for a long moment on the blood, "Luckily, I assumed you would be and have the bath water heated and ready for you."

He grasped my hand and led me past the stair case and into a small room with a tiled floor. In the middle of the room was a metal tub, filled with steaming water. "It may be too hot still as I didn't know when you were getting back, but as I have read, women like to have hotter baths then men do, hmm?" He grinned, "The towels are there on the chair. Now, if you will give me your clothes I can get them washed and dried by the time you finish."

And with that, he began undressing me.

I was so shocked that I didn't stop him until he was there tugging up my shirt, my tunic, belt and boots already off. I swatted away his hands then, stepping away and blushing. "Leonardo!" I protested in outrage, understandably disturbed.

He stared at me for a moment before realisation settled in and his face fell in mortification, "Oh! _Mi dispiace_, Jessica! I did not realise—!"

"That I was a girl?" I asked, my eyes wide in disbelief. He looked down at the ground, blushing.

"No, I most definitely realised that, it is just, well…" he trailed off. While I shook my head slightly, waiting for his explanation as to why he would think it was decent to undress me. "Please don't misunderstand, Jessica, I do not think of you in that way…more…like a father. I was so concerned about you when you did not return after such a long time, and then the guards were asking me about you and…" he sighed, distressed, "I do not want to lose you, Jessica. I like having you with me. I like talking with you, and discussing and debating with you about the things we do! You are kind and caring and understanding and incredibly intelligent… I care for you greatly…" he stared at the floor, thoroughly ashamed and distraught.

It was then that I burst into tears. Rendered completely unable to cope with or communicate concerning the events of that day, I stood before the confused, apologetic and completely flustered man and sobbed bitterly. Curling in on myself, Leo pulled me tightly to his chest and held me as tears flowed and he gave up on trying to get any answers out of me. I cried for hours, during which time I took my bath, which was lovely even though the water became red with Federico's blood, got dressed, refused anything to eat, assured Leo that I would be fine soon and that he should go to bed, and finally crawled into my own bed and thoroughly soaked the pillow with my tears. By the time they began to dry at last, I had found myself unable to precisely identify which one thing that had happened to me had caused such a reaction. One thing was sure, however; I was no longer numb.

I fell asleep soon after, feeling a lot better, almost peaceful, in fact, right up until, for the fifth night in a row, I experienced a terrible nightmare about a young boy and a road.


	7. Chapter 6 (2014)

Leonardo woke me the next morning, a troubled frown on his face. I blinked blearily at him from where I was curled up in my bed, wearing nothing but a shirt that Leo had given me to sleep in that was clearly one of his own. It reached down to my knees when I stood and I had to roll up the sleeves.

"Whadda you want, Leo?" I grumbled, re-closing my eyes and snuggling down deeper beneath the covers.

I hid my face in my pillow as Leo pulled back the curtain, letting in the morning light and began shaking me gently. "Jessica, there is a hooded man at the door for you. He has a sword on his hip and I cannot see his eyes no matter how I try. What have you been up to?" I swatted his hands away and yawned hugely, wishing that he would just leave me alone to sleep.

Couldn't he see I was traumatized from yesterday's adventure and wanted to do nothing more than lie in bed for the rest of forever?

"Sleeping," I grumbled.

Leo shook me again, more sharply this time. "Jessica, _please_. He will not leave without you. He walked straight into the house and stood there with his arms crossed demanding that he saw you! I told him that you were still asleep but he was absolutely adamant!" he cried, sounding distressed.

I groaned and rubbed my palms against my eyes, before sighing and glaring up at the roof.

"What time is it?" I mumbled to Leo who was now sitting on the edge of the bed gazing at me.

"A little past nine o'clock, _Angelo_…What should I do about the man?"

My long dark hair fell around my shoulders and I brushed it out of my face as I, in vain, tried to fight back another yawn. I stretched my arms above my head, making a little sound as my joints popped. Rubbing my eyes with my fists now, I motioned for Leo to move before throwing back the covers and swinging my legs around to hand off the side of the bed.

Again, I yawned and sighed. Stupid mornings, stupid sun.

"He's got a hood on?" I asked. Leo nodded vigorously, wringing his hands.

"Yes! And a sword! Is he your friend, or…?"

"No, he's not my friend, but I know him," I sighed, standing up and stretching my arms again.

"Well, who is he?"

"I think his name is Ezio," I said, pronouncing it with too much of an emphasis on the 'e'.

"Ezio Auditore?" Leo gasped, and his eyes features darkened as he gazed at me, "I heard of the events at the gallows yesterday. Jessica, is that the reason you were so upset? Did you have a part in the tragedy involving his family?"

I moved to the chair upon which Leo had neatly folded my clothes after washing them the night before, and as I picked them up, I noticed several dark spots and patches which had not been there before. I ran my fingers over them and Leo noticed, "Is that why you were covered in blood when you returned last night? And why the water turned red as I washed your clothing."

I sighed heavily, my back to him, "I shouldn't keep Ezio waiting."

A hand landed on my shoulder, "Jessica, are you _safe?_" I turned to see his eyes filled with concern and worry for me.

I smiled, my heart warming, "I am," I bluffed. How could I answer that honestly when I was far from sure myself? I had absolutely no idea what I was getting myself into but there was no way I was going to tell him that.

After a moment of staring hard into my eyes, his face relaxed into a small smile, "Good. Where are you going with him?" he asked me suddenly. I opened my mouth to explain, but then closed immediately with a snort of laughter. How would kind, gentle, innocent Leonardo take it if I told him that I was going to a brothel with a strange man?

'…An inn he and his family are staying at."

"Oh, what is it called?"

"Uhh…the-innocent-and-totally-not-a-brothel-inn?" I mumbled quickly accompanying it with a shit-eating grin.

"_Mi dispiace?"_ Leonardo asked, looking awfully suspicious. With a laugh I walked over and oh-so-graciously pushed him out the door.

"I should probably hurry, eh? Don't want to keep the man waiting." I grinned, quickly shutting the door on him.

I changed quickly and made my way down stairs to find the White Hood, or Ezio, whatever, and Leo bent conspicuously over something at the table, their backs to me.

Walking closer, I saw that Leonardo was fiddling something while Ezio looked on in interest. Neither of the two even noticed I was there until I was standing right at their back, glancing over Leo's shoulder to see what was going on.

"What's that?" I asked, stepping back with a wry smile as the two men jumped and spun around to see me, their eyes wide in surprise.

"_Angelo_, you startled me!" Leo patted his chest and tried to slow his breathing.

"Marietta, _buon giorno_. Are you ready to leave?" Ezio inquired politely. I noted pleasantly that his hood was pulled back for the first time, and that beneath it was an olive skinned man with a strong nose, brow and jaw, soulful, amber-coloured eyes rimmed with dark lashes, and the most shapely, pouty lips I had ever seen on a person of either gender. These lips, I noticed, were scarred on the right side; a thin but jagged cut running from above his upper lip, to the edge of his bottom lip. It hadn't healed cleanly or well, but it gave his face a kind of character. In short, he was a very attractive young man.

I nodded in affirmation, "Yeah, but what's all this? What are you two up to?" Leo stepped aside to let me see what looked like some sort of blade and an armband. "What is it?"

"A retractable blade, Jes—Marietta!" Leo quickly corrected himself with a glance toward Ezio, before his eyes began to sparkle with enthusiasm as he explained to me how he thought it must work, how Ezio had brought it to him, and how he was going to fix it. Briefly, he showed me a very old piece of parchment with a design on it, labelled with writing in a language I couldn't read. It looked Arabic or Indian or something, I really wasn't sure.

I glanced over at Ezio who had been quiet all this time and tilted my head curiously, "Where'd you get it?"

He was silent for a moment before he answered tightly; "It was my father's."

"Oh…" We lapsed into silence, me not knowing what to say, Ezio lost in his thoughts. Leo stood awkwardly to the side. At last, he clapped his hands, capturing both of our attention.

"Don't you two have somewhere to be then? Ezio, I will have this fixed before the evening for you."

"_Grazie_, Leonardo."

"And _Angelo_, I want to see you back here before nightfall," he pointed at me sternly, "The guards are still looking for you no doubt and I don not know what I would do if you are hurt." He shook his red beret topped head, stepping forward and taking my shoulders in his hands. "Please…_fare attenzione_. Ezio, you will look after her." Leo didn't ask, but command.

"Of course, _signore_." Ezio bowed his head respectfully, "I will guard her with my life."

"_Faresti meglio, ragazzo_." Leo told him sternly as he turned back to me, pulling me to him and hugging me gently, "You be careful," he murmured in my ear.

I closed my eyes, hugging him back and smiling. "I'll be fine. Don't worry."

"I hope so."

Ezio and I bid Leonardo farewell and then left, falling into step beside each as we made our way in silence to the _La Rosa Colta._

There were people everywhere, doing their shopping, delivering letters, just hanging out… almost like back home. Except this wasn't back home. I still wasn't convinced that this wasn't a crazy town, I mean honestly what else could it logically be? A sudden tingle from my left hand brought the mark to my attention. The dark golden, shimmering circle lined with thin, intricate patterns. I had doubts that it was a tattoo, but I had no clue as to where I acquired it or what it could be otherwise. I hadn't given much thought to it. There was no point wasting time on theories when I had no way to acquire the answers. I tilted my hand slightly forward and back and watched it shine.

"What is that?"

I dropped my hand quickly by my side and pulled it into a fight fist, my head snapping around to look wide eyed and completely innocently at Ezio, "Nothing."

With his hood down I couldn't see his reaction to my obvious lie and discomfort, but he said nothing more on the subject. I slowed slightly to walk just behind him to make things less awkward for myself.

I inspected him then, taking note of his height –he was a head and a half taller than me – and the way he moved his body. He seemed to prowl along, brushing through the crowds effortlessly. His broad shoulders, accented by the cut of his richly embroidered off-white tunic pulled in sharply at his waist and was wrapped with a thick red sash beneath a very strange belt. The back of the tunic reached down the back of his legs to cut off at his knees, and I noticed that the underside of this was red as well. The brown, short cape which hung across his left shoulder was a beautiful, deep red beneath, and his sleeves were light and loose, pulling in at the cuffs. He cut an imposing figure, and many of the people in the crowd I saw were intentionally keeping their distance from the tall, strong, hooded and intimidating man and I didn't blame them.

Ezio stopped abruptly, his shoulders stiffening. I opened my mouth to ask what was wrong when he spun quickly to face me, taking me suddenly by the waist and moving to press me between a wall and his large chest, leaning over me and lowering his head so as to imitate lovers embracing. My heartbeat quickened as I felt his heat around me and his quite stinky breath on my face. I heard him shushing me quietly, and I stayed still beneath him, keeping my breathing steady as I stared at the material of his collar and avoiding making eye contact with the plunging neckline and the darkly haired, olive skinned chest it revealed. I heard a loud group of armoured men march past us. Guards, I assume. After a long few moments of slow, careful breathing, I couldn't hear them any longer, and after a subtle glance over his shoulder, Ezio decided it was clear to move on.

He stepped away from me, apologising with a smirk and I accepted it with an awkward clearing of my throat and a small smile, not looking at his hooded face. We walked for sometime longer, and this time I myself was on the look out for guards, but we were lucky, and soon the red banners of _La Rosa Colta _came into sight.

Instead of knocking, Ezio barged right in, and I followed awkwardly after, my eyes running over every surface. The woman, Paola, whom I assumed to be the madam of the brothel, greeted me politely before she and Ezio fell deep into conversation. For a moment I stood to the side, unsure.

"Marietta!" I looked to a smiling little boy, the kid, Petruccio, whom I just noticed had a shockingly bad haircut who was making his way down the stairs holding the hand of a young woman wearing a yellow dress. Her dark hair was pulled back extravagantly and her face showed signs of great grief, no matter how hard she had obviously tried to cover it with makeup. There were bags underneath her bloodshot eyes, and the corners of her mouth were turned down.

"Hey kiddo," I smiled in greeting, pleased to see that he looked remarkably better than he had yesterday. However I noted that he seemed pale and very tired, and there was a seriousness in his eyes that one would not usually associate with children. Or young teenagers. Preteens. Whatever.

"You know Claudia? She is Federico, Ezio and I's sister," the kid introduced happily. I blinked and turned to her, a polite smile on my face.

"We have met," Claudia spat dryly. My eyebrows rose and my head tilted to the side in confusion, smile fading quickly as she looked me up and down disdainfully.

"We have?" I asked, utterly baffled.

"Yes, do not pretend you do not remember," she said sharply, her upper lip curling back in a barely suppressed snarl. I gaped, taken aback and completely at a loss. Something was seriously going on here. Here we had yet another person who claims to know me as Marietta. I was growing slightly more than concerned at this fact.

"Um… alrighty, then," I cleared my throat uneasily, averting my eyes and squashing the rising panicked confusion. Claudia's brown eyes were like daggers.

"Would you like to see Federico, now?" the kid asked, "He has been waiting all morning for you to come back!" he told me, taking my hand and leading me toward the same room the Ezio and I had carried Federico into yesterday.

"He has not stopped asking about you!" he laughed. As we walked, I was painfully aware of the glaring Claudia behind me, her dagger eyes stabbing into my back.

I got a couple of looks as I made my way to Federico's room, mostly of the suggestive type from men already surrounded by women. I did my best to ignore them, averting my eyes and focusing on the wooden door at the end of the hall. I wrinkled my nose at the smell of the place and dodged out of the way of a bald man who had just walked out of the door to our right, looking quite pleased with himself. My wrinkle turned into a full-on cringe of disgust as he winked at me before moving on. Oh dear god. Revolting.

The kid let go of my hand as he walked straight in the half open door, and as I hesitated, Claudia brushed past me, her nose in the air, looking down at me condescendingly. From where I stood in the doorway, all I could see was the left window, the chest of drawers, and a thin strip of the left side of the maroon coloured bed covers. On the floor next to the bed was a pair of big, expensive dark leather boots. The window and curtain were open, and I could hear the faint murmur from the people on the streets as a gentle breeze blew into the room, causing the material hanging from the roof to sway.

Suddenly I was nervous, apprehensive. Again, the option to leave was there in my thoughts. To leave them to their own story, to make my own. I should be trying to find a way out of this crazy town and back home. I frowned. I should be _wanting_ to go back home.

I looked down at myself. Didn't I care? I hadn't even really thought about the fact that I had no idea how I got here or where here even was. I didn't know how I acquired the strange tattoo on my hand or why it was that I was experiencing bouts of schizophrenia which was somehow associated to a painful sensation originating from said tattoo. I didn't know who this Marietta was or why everyone seemed to think I was her. There were so many things I didn't understand and was sure that I needed to figure out, but… they just didn't seem all that important and I couldn't explain why.

What I did know, however, was that I had saved the lives of two people, almost three. I had become fast friends with a man who went by the name Leonardo Da Vinci and who, as far as I could tell, was one of the kindest, most intelligent and compassionate people I knew and who didn't want me to get hurt or leave.

_You are needed here, Jessica._ My eyes widened as the voice appeared in my mind as my left palm burned. I didn't want to believe that I had a mental illness but honestly what else could it be? There couldn't seriously be some woman talking telepathically to me inside my head.

"Who are you?" I whispered, but got no response.

"Marietta?" the kid stared up at me with confusion.

"Are you coming in or not?" Claudia snapped.

_They need you. We need you. You must stay._

"You can't make me stay, can you? You need me to make the choice. I'm in control here," I murmured, the realisation that even if I was going crazy and voices were telling me to do things, they couldn't actually make me do a thing.

"Marietta?" I looked down at the curious, worried eyes of the kid, "What is wrong?" he asked, taking my hand. I didn't answer.

_Stay._

I looked down into the kid's confused eyes, and then up into Claudia's suspicious ones, and sighed, the answer obvious to me, "Yeah. I'm fine." I smiled at him, letting go of his hand to ruffle his hair, wondering if he would let me cut it into something less shoulder-lengthed with a straight fringe and more short and spiky. He grinned up at me as I walked past him and into the room.

There was no incense in the corner today, and there was no need for candles, so I couldn't even blame this on a foggy mind. I guess I was staying. Got nothin' better to do anyway, I guess, I thought sardonically.

_Thank you_, came the voice.

"_Buon Giorno_, Marietta!"

I smiled politely at Federico as I came to stand by his bedside, in front of the window, glancing at Claudia and her dagger eyes.

"How are you?" I asked him, looking him over. There was an army of pillows propping him up into a sitting position on the bed and a thin maroon sheet covering his body, and through the material, I could see how they had bandaged his right leg.

The fact that he was bare-chested and wore nothing but a rolled up pair of brown trousers did not escape my attention but it didn't distract me, either. I was not here for, nor was I interested in hanky-panky of any kind with anyone. I had far more important things to deal with.

Federico smiled hugely at me, "Fantastic," he replied, "now that you're here." Before I knew what was happening, Federico had grabbed my arm and tugged me down onto the bed next to him. I struggled to keep my legs away from his own as he flung an arm around me and held me close to his side, pressing his lips to my head.

So apparently I was the only one uninterested.

I heard Claudia scoff before she began ushering the kid to leave. She glared at me as they left, and the kid grinned, waving. Claudia closed the door solidly behind them and we were alone. I sat awkwardly beneath Federico's arm, my legs mostly hanging from the side of the bed, away from his injured appendage.

"How's your leg?" I decided to ask him.

"Paola gave me something to ease the pain. It is not as bad as it looked," he told me, his voice soft above my head. I scoffed doubtfully, trying to calm my heartbeat as my body reacted in every unwelcome way to his.

"Really? 'Cause it looked really bad."

I felt him shrug, "It was a clean cut."

"Through your _leg_." I turned to look up at him just in time to see his face darken and become serious. His eyes were a dark brown, unlike Ezio's and almost identical to the kid's, and they seemed to see straight through my own.

We were silent for a long while, the only sound the people outside, and the gentle rhythm of our breaths. I gazed up at him then, noting the olive skin, strong chin, nose and forehead, the dark, expressive eyes, the pouty lips and the dark brown shaggy hair. The shadow of hair could be seen across his upper lip, down the sides of his jaw and cheeks and on his chin. Across his nose, just below the bridge, was a red discolouring which could have been anything from a birthmark to a burn scar. It gave his face character, and I decided I liked it.

"My father… he is dead," he said softly. I gazed sadly up at his face. He wasn't looking at me now, instead staring straight ahead blankly. "I am still expecting him to walk through that door with mother at his side, and scold me for getting myself hurt," his voice shook and I patted his lower thigh gently, offering some kind of comfort.

"I feel as if I should be thankful. Mother, Claudia, Ezio and Petruccio…we are all here, safe. And you…you are in my arms," He paused, sniffing. "You saved us, Marietta. You tried to save father," his voice cracked and I heard him take a long, shaky breath before he continued, "I will take my family to Monteriggioni, to my uncle. We will be safe there…" he paused, and I stayed quiet, knowing he wanted to say more.

"Marietta, I understand how much you have given up already, truly. But I have thought this through; it is not safe for you to be here. The guards will be looking for you, and if they find you…" I felt him shake his head and press his lips to my hair again, "I want you to come with me. I can keep you safe. I _need_ to keep you safe."

My stomach dropped and I held back a groan as the obviousness of this situation hit me in the face like a ton o' bricks. Ah, crap man. He's got feelings for Marietta. Who he thinks I am. Feelings. Deep down, sappy, sickening feelings. Feelings that a boy feels for a girl when he likes her. When he_ like _likes her. Oh my god. What was I supposed to do? This was such a goddamn mess. I had assumed the easiest thing to do was keep playing along as Marietta as that's what Leo had done, but now that romance was involved? I couldn't just come out and say that I wasn't who he thought I was; that somehow he had mixed up the girl he fancied, possibly even loved, with me.

At my long silence, Federico grew tense, his arm tightening around my shoulders and his chest muscles clenching against my side. It was as if he were terrified that I'd reject the idea. Which I planned to. But the toned muscles of the tanned bodied shirtless man next to me was making it hard for my brain to form coherent sentences of rejection. God, if it wasn't some druggy incense fogging up my mind it was a shirtless Italian gazing down at me with deep dark brown eyes with his arm over my shoulders and his warmth and scent everywhere. Screw the more important things to worry about. I was only human.

"Marietta, if you stay it will be only a matter of time until the guards of Florence hunt you down and throw you in prison. They will gather up your family and friends and name them conspirators in your treasonous acts against the city. You will be hung. Just as we were going to be," he told me, his voice serious but gentle.

I suddenly felt sick, horror spreading throughout my body.

"They'll take Leonardo?" I whispered. My heart thudded painfully at the mere thought of seeing Leonardo's limp body, his lifeless eyes. The possibility hadn't even crossed my mind but now that he had mentioned it, it seemed painfully obvious. I had put not only myself, but also Leo in danger.

"Leonardo?" Federico asked, sounding suddenly very confused, "The painter?"

I ignored him, my mind flashing through a million and one still-frames at once. I saw my mother crying into Jasmin's shoulder whilst tears streamed silently down her own face. I saw hundreds of strangers' faces looking down at me, pity in their eyes. I saw myself sobbing over a grave, a wilted rose in my hand. I clenched my eyes closed, trying to block them out. No, that could never happen. Not again. I would not lose another father.

I swallowed hard again, trying to tune into what Federico was saying and failing. If I didn't leave with him and his family, Leonardo would die. But could I really leave innocent, adorable Leo by himself? No.

Did I want to? God, no. And did I want to have to try and figure out how to deal with Federico's obvious infatuation with the woman whom he mistakenly believed me to be? Dear _god,_ no.

But I couldn't take the chance.

I sighed heavily, shuffling carefully out from under his arm, swinging my legs down over the edge of the bed with my hands clenched down on the blanket on either side of me. I sat there with my head down and my back to Federico, wondering when and how everything got so wrong so fast.

"Marietta?"

I cringed at the name that wasn't mine. I turned my head slightly toward the door, staring painfully at the floor.

_We're sorry for your pain and confusion._

You need to tell me what's happening here. All of it. Now.

_Soon. _

I leant forward to rest my elbows on my knees and brought my left hand up to my chin, fingering my lips worriedly while the other hand flopped down toward my opposite leg. We sat there in silence for a long time, me, thinking, and Federico doing god-knows-what. Finally, I sighed and looked over my right shoulder at him, a mournful look on my face, "Alright…when do we leave?"

His face broke out in a wide smile, and I had to look away.

I shook my head as I slowed to a stop in the main foyer of the brothel, wiping my hands down my face.

"Marietta!"

My hands dropped and I shot a wry smile at the kid as he ditched Claudia on the couch and hurried over to me, taking a hold of my hand. "What did you and Federico talk about?" he asked, smiling widely up at me.

Claudia rose and walked to stand near us, her dagger-eyes still on full-blast, "Yes, what _did_ you two talk about?"

I stared straight back at her, still feeling sick to my stomach as the still-frames of the past and possible future continued to fly through my brain. "He asked me to come with you to your uncle's. He said it was too dangerous for me to stay."

Claudia scoffed and waved a hand, still glaring, "_Please_. Your father owns half of this city. You could kill the Pope and get away with it." I surprised her by letting out a small chuckle at that, not able to conjure enough energy to raise concerns about this so-called 'father' of mine, or I guess, Marietta's. Her glare softened as she scanned my face fully.

"Yeah, well, it's not really me I'm worried about." The two looked at me in silence, Claudia's dagger-eyes dead. I glanced down at the kid's confused face and shot him another crooked smile. His face cleared and he smiled back as Claudia stomped closer, shoving her face in my own and staring straight into my eyes with suspicion.

"You are different, Marietta Sanfilippo. Your face, your eyes, even the way you hold yourself," she glanced down at my body, "And _what _are you wearing?"

"Pants," I laughed softly at the look on her face. She shook her head in disbelief.

"What has happened to you to make you change so?"

To that I just shrugged, giving the kid's hand a gentle squeeze and getting one in return. Claudia shook her head again and I glanced at her hair, wondering for a moment what it was that made it stay exactly where it was when she moved. "Well, I do not trust you," she told me with a small frown, that shocked me by turning into a small smile, "But I like this new you. Plus, you did save my brothers," her smile faded as she looked at me sadly, "and Ezio told me that you tried to save my father, as well… thank you, for that. Thank you so much."

I nodded once to her, accepting her thanks before reaching out to put a comforting hand on her shoulder as fresh tears sprung to her red-rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry," I murmured, pain and empathy tugging at my heart. She nodded, wiping at the tears and sniffing, "Well. There is nothing to do about it now," she said strongly, her voice only quaking slightly. I dropped my hand from her shoulder as I watched her re-compose herself, admiration flowing through me. "What else did Federico say to you?" she asked me, her voice and facial features showing an almost overwhelming amount more respect and kindness than before.

I blinked at the sudden change, "Um, he said that we would leave soon, the actual day depending on when he's able to walk on his own without falling to the ground and screaming like a baby."

An amused smile flickered on her face at that, and the kid giggled. "So we'll be here for a while yet," Claudia nodded, accepting this and not realizing the danger our waiting would hold for us. I decided to keep the information to myself while the kid was around. I didn't really want to upset him anymore than necessary. I spent the rest of the day with the two, laughing and talking and getting to know them and ultimately, aiming to keep our minds as far from reality as possible.

O

Ezio watched her from afar as she wove skilfully through the streets, her high pony-tail swinging gently in time with her slender hips and brushing against her lower back, just above the curve of her ass.

It had not been difficult to track her through the streets, for even as he watched, the crowds seemed to part for her. Men and women stepped almost subconsciously aside when she neared. And even with the movements, none of the patrols she passed even gave her a second glance.

Ezio's eyes narrowed in suspicion. What magic was at work here? His mind was lost in thought as his body followed her almost subconsciously. He moved when she moved; sped up and slowed to match her pace.

"Is it magic?" he wondered aloud, "…Or is it her?" Marietta definitely had an imposing presence, at least, she did before she had supposedly ran away, and had shown up with _Messer_ Leonardo in his workshop, of all places. Her hair tied up away from her face and her expensive dress replaced with a lowly courtesan's attire. Very rarely in his life had Ezio seen a woman in pants. It just wasn't done.

From what Ezio had seen of Marietta, it was clear that she thrived in the attention she was adorned with as a result of her beauty, and also that she held no love for _Messer _Leonardo or his talents. So what had happened between the two that the man would use such endearments as_ angelo,_ so casually in the presence of another? How was it possible that in such a small amount of time, the girl had changed so much?

At that moment, Ezio realized he was being hypocritical. After all, look at how much he had changed. He had taken multiple lives; was a wanted criminal, was hiding his family in a brothel, was grieving the loss of his father, and burning with rage and lust for the blood of the men responsible. He shook his head, clearing it of such thoughts. He had to concentrate on the moment. He had to concentrate on getting his family to Monteriggioni and then on to Spain.

Ezio watched over her carefully as she returned to the painter's workshop, her previously happy expression becoming anxious. Not afraid, but worried, an expression Ezio had never seen on the face of the noble brat.

He watched as she broke from the path formed by the crowd and ascended the two small steps up to the workshop's entrance door. There Marietta hesitated, running a hand through her long, dark hair.

Standing on the rooftop of the building directly opposite the workshop, Ezio found his eyes drawn to her, even more so than before. She was truly something to look at…If only it could be his own fingers running though her hair, following it down her back to her waist, and those hips—Ezio stopped himself with guilty thoughts of his brother. He had seen the taken look in his bed-ridden brother's eyes as he asked to him guard her secretly as she walked home. It was a look he knew well.

Ezio watched as Marietta finally sighed and disappeared through the heavy door of the painter's home.

He stepped back from the edge of the roof and began to make his way back to_ La Rosa Colta_. He owed her after she saved his brothers so bravely. He owed it to her to keep her safe. And through her, Federico's heart.

"_Fratello_! You're back! Is she—?" Federico perked up as Ezio walked quietly through the bedroom door. He put a hand up to silence his brother.

"She is fine. Safe and sound with the painter," he told him.

"The painter? Leonardo?" Ezio nodded to Federico's question.

Federico went silent, a small frown on his face. Breathing in deeply, Ezio summoned his courage, "Brother, does Marietta seem… different, at all?"

Federico's eyes shot to his, amber on brown, and his frown deepened, "Yes, I guess she does."

Ezio nodded again, "Somehow... quieter, more thoughtful. And of course, there's the fact that she's living with _Messer_ Leonardo."

"She's actually_ living _with him?"

"_Si_. I wonder if her father knows."

"But she does not even _like_ the painter! She refuses to go to his workshop or to let him even paint her portrait…" he shook his head, slumping against the pillows behind him.

"I swear, Ezio, women get more and more complicated the closer you get to them." Even though Ezio could see that Federico was frustrated, he could see the gentleness in his eyes as he thought of Marietta. He smiled and shook his head, purposefully patting Federico's injured leg gently once, causing the elder brother to fly forward and take a hold of it with both hands, swearing on the top of his lungs.

Ezio laughed, ignoring the insults and threats shot at him, "Amen, brother."

A

I walked through the door, ready to come face-to-face with Leo and be bombarded with questions, but instead, I was met with an empty room. I closed the front door behind me and looked around the empty workshop, wondering if he was out on an errand all by himself.

"Jessica? Is that you?" I heard.

"Leo?" I asked in confusion, stepping further into the room. "Where are you?"

"I am underneath the table."

One of my eyebrows rose. "Oh. Of course!" I rolled my eyes, walking over to the largest table in the middle of the room and bending at the waist, grabbing a hold of the edge of the table and looking beneath. "What are you doing?" I smiled at him where he was lying on his back, his cape spread out around him and his beret askew.

"I'm painting!" he cried happily.

"Upside down?" I laughed.

"Well, they say it is healthy to try new things! And it really is great fun!" I moved into a squat above him, shaking my head.

"You've got paint all over your face," I told him, but he just shrugged, getting back to his painting. In one hand he held the paintbrush and the other his platter, covered in dark paints. I watched him as he worked, noticing that whenever he didn't like what he had done his face darkened dramatically, and he cursed underneath his breath. My eyes softened and my eyebrows turned up mournfully. I was gonna miss him so much. I had formed such a strong attachment to him in such a short amount of time… It was so unfortunate and entirely unfair.

I cleared my throat, "Y'know, I heard of this guy, Michelangelo. He painted the entire roof of a church, all by himself, all upside down."

Leo stopped and his eyes brightened, "Really? By himself?"

I smiled, nodding, "Yep. It took him four whole years."

"Amazing…"

"Hmm…" I glanced at the window, noticing how dark it had gotten. "Y'know, it's getting late Leonardo. Don't stay up too late with this."

"Of course. _Buona notte_, _Angelo_."

"Na-night." I straightened up and made my way up the stairs, glancing back at Leo as he swore loudly and began painting furiously. I giggled, shaking my head.

In my room I tugged off my boots and clothes, dropping my money pouch on the bedside table next to my dagger. Collapsing on the bed I sighed, tucking myself in and quickly fell asleep, dully hoping that tonight would be nightmare free. Not a chance.


	8. Chapter 7 (2014)

_Daniel Raso was a man of 39 years, he had blue eyes and messy brown hair that was always the colour of tar when he came home from the mines exactly three hours late each evening. He worked hard and slept little, but always had a smile for his wife and children, and would listen to their stories and play with them and read to them until they finally passed out. _

_Daniel would then take a shower and watch the blackness and dirt his tired body had collected during the day swirl around his feet and down the drain. Afterwards he'd collapse onto the couch where his wife would give him leftovers from dinner several hours earlier and a bottle of Jack Daniels, grumble about how late his work was keeping him and then throw in a few choice words while ranting about how, when she imagined their future together, he was home everyday in time for dinner, and he'd be there in the mornings to help get their children ready for school and now instead, she was stuck doing everything like a 50s housewife. He'd take a couple of swigs from his bottle before putting his now empty plate to the side, set down his bottle next to it, grab his wife by the hips and trap her in his arms where she was, seated on his lap. _

_She'd glare. He'd give her that self-satisfied grin that she secretly loved._

_And then they'd lose themselves in each other. _

_Each day it was the same, he'd go to work, he'd come back, he'd kiss her silly. It was their routine, and they were perfectly happy with it being that way. _

_Until, one day, it wasn't._

_It was a Friday. His family were all waiting by the door exactly three hours after dinner. An hour passed and Daniel still wasn't home. As one, the children all looked to their mother who just smiled reassuringly at them, and they continued to wait. By the time the clock struck five hours after dinner, they were all worried. And when the phone rung, their worry turned into a sort of terrified apprehension. _

_The mother answered it and her children all crowded around as her face changed from one of confusion, then to disbelief, then to horror. Everything was silent._

_Daniel's wife placed the phone back on the hook, stared at it for a long while and then, she collapsed onto the ground, weeping inconsolably. _

_Daniel Raso was walking through a long, dark corridor, carrying a bag over his strong shoulder and a helmet upon his head. It was cold and lifeless in that mine where he was, surrounded by rock. _

_The last thing he heard was this loud rumbling noise, the last thing he felt was terror, the last thing Daniel saw was his family all smiling out at him from the little picture he always held in his shirt pocket, right above his heart. _

_There was a loud, high pitched ringing sound, and then the sound of a car's blaring horn._

My eyes shot open, my sight bleary as I slowly took in my room as I saw it where I laid on my side. I frowned at the corner of the dresser and then moved my eyes up to the window, where the light curtains were floating gently into the room with the wind. I brought one hand up to rub at my eyes before gently pushing myself up into a sitting position.

I sat there in the darkness in complete silence.

What was that?

I pushed the covers from my body and swung my legs around, over the edge of the mattress staring at my bare knees.

_T'was just a dream. Go back to sleep, Jessica._

I ignored the voice, pushing myself off of the bed and moving to stand by the window. I pushed the curtains aside and looked out at the buildings of Florence. My arms crossed over my chest as my hair was lifted by the cool night breeze. I lifted my eyes to the sky and sighed in amazement at the millions of stars I saw there. The wonder quickly faded as my gaze immediately searched for the Southern Cross. My Southern Cross.

It wasn't there.

Nothing was the same. Not even the stars. This wasn't Australia. This was wrong.

My stomach felt heavy and I lowered my gaze, just in time to see a flash of white disappear behind a chimney, still spewing out black smoke on top of a building to the right. I stood up straighter, a frown creasing my forehead as I turned my complete attention to that chimney.

Was it my imagination?

_T'was just a dream. Go back to sleep._

I felt a slight tug on my left arm's bicep, and I quickly turned to look for the hand that accompanied the feeling. I looked behind me in confusion, but there was no one there. I lowered my gaze to my palm, my eyes darkening as I saw the circle there, glowing steadily. I clenched my fist and glanced back out the window. I immediately spotted his form, his white chest splattered in red, and my eyes widened. Was that… _blood_?

I could feel his eyes on me from beneath his white hood. I swallowed hard, and slowly stepped back from the window, both fists clenched and ready to run for the door and to Leo as quickly as I could. The curtains fluttered gently back down and continued their gentle billowing as if nothing had happened.

I stood there in the middle of my room for no less than five solid minutes before I quietly, calmly slid back into bed and pulled the covers up over my head. I squeezed my eyes closed and took several long, deep breaths. I slept little that night, tossing and turning and constantly imagining the White Hood soaring through my window and stabbing me with my own dagger, my own hot blood soaking the covers of my bed. All the while the car horn blared and the mine collapsed into rubble.

I was up, dressed and descending the stairs, boots in hand moments after the sun peaked over the roofs of the buildings across from the workshop. Half-way down I stopped, tilted my head in confusion, turned, and ran back up. I found myself at Leo's ajar bedroom door, looking in at the chaos that was the floor, walls and even roof of the room. And the empty bed.

Where's Leo? I looked left and right down the hall, immediately dismissing my room and the small 'study' to the immediate right of it. I walked back down the stairs, looking around the empty workplace in confusion. Leonardo is never out and about this early. He's always either asleep in bed, snoring his little heart out, or he's at his table, arguing with himself about whatever it is that he's arguing with himself about.

I dumped my boots by the bottom of the stairs and walked toward the back of the stairs, glancing through the bathroom, the kitchen and another 'study' was located. This study was so full of discontinued works that bits of paper covered in notes were sliding underneath the door and scattered across the floor. I double checked on the way back toward the workroom and stood in front of Leo's table looking around, frowning.

"Where's…?" I mumbled to myself, utterly confused. Then my gaze landed upon the smaller table off to the left of the front door which was covered in a white sheet. My face grew into a large grin, my heart beat slowing to normal. I walked over to the table, pulled back the large white sheet that wasn't there yesterday and bent over at the waist.

There Leo was, on his side, a burnt-out candle beside him and one hand underneath his head, snoring. His beret was lying on the floor above his head. My face stretched out in a large grin.

"Good morning, sunshine..." I said softly, laughing breathily as he mumbled something incoherent and then continued snoring. "Leo...Leeeeeeeeeooooooo...Leonardo. Wakey wakey..." I shook my head, "You so didn't go to bed after I told you, did ya?" I giggled. I squatted down, throwing the white sheet further back from the edge of the table before reaching out and poking the top of his head gently. "Leeeoo... c'mon..." I sung softly, poking his again, "...It's morning—"

I fell backward with a short cry as Leonardo flew up into a sitting position with a loud "WHAT?" before promptly banging his head on the bottom of the table. "GAH!" he cried, crawling out unsteadily on one hand as he rubbed the top of his head with the other.

I stood, brushing the dust from my backside and trying to hold back my laughter. "Hahaha, are... are you, okay?" I laughed. He grumbled something and swore. I chuckled softly once more before looking up to smile at him. My face dropped, tears welled in my eyes and I doubled over in hysterics.

"Yes, yes. It is very funny," he mumbled, glaring at me. I shook my head, and gestured toward his head as he huffed and puffed with his arms crossed. He was silent right up to the point where I was on my hands and knees, crying my eyes out and trying to keep control of my bladder.

"You, Jessica Raso," he began angrily, "are the most immature, childish, sadistic woman I have ever met! I let you stay in my home and eat my breakfasts and lunches and dinners and sleep in my spare bedroom and this is how you repay me? By laughing at my misfortunes? You and Marietta are exactly the same! I should throw you out onto the streets! I should call for your father! I should—"

"—Leo," I interrupted him, forcing myself to my knees and looking up at him, managing to silence my laughter for a short moment so that I could speak, "You have a paintbrush stuck to your face."

Leo reached up slowly, and as his hand came into contact with the wooden painting stick, his eyes widened in realisation and his face turned a brilliant pink. He plucked it from his cheek, and then stared at it in silence for a long moment before he looked at me, suffocating on the ground and rolled his eyes with a sigh. "I should go make you your breakfast..." he finished, shaking his head and walking out of my line of sight.

I got my breakfast of fruits, berries, bread, jam and fresh milk, gave Leonardo a giant bear hug to say sorry, and then left for _La Rosa Colta._

The walk to the brothel today was different; there were twice as many guards as before, and less normal people walking around. I found myself having to duck into small crowds of people to avoid the piercing eyes of the patrols, but I couldn't help staring in a sort of horrified amazement as the unbelievably large armoured men with the giant axes clanked past. There were guards knocking upon doors and shoving flyers into the surprised faces of the owners within.

There was also the unwelcome feeling of being watched. A shiver ran down my spine as I chanced a glance behind me, flashes of the night before running through my mind. The White Hood. Whose blood was on his hands? I ducked my head and hurried my pace.

The moment I walked through the door of the brothel, all thoughts of the White Hood vanished as I took in the view of his brother failing to limp around the foyer without landing on his face. Paola stood by the couches to the right looking concerned whilst Claudia stood beside her ranting loudly about how much of an idiot he was.

I froze in the door way, wondering who had been stupid enough to let him get out of bed, let alone walk around the place only two days after he sustained his injury.

Federico pushed himself off from the wall where he was leaning, straightened himself up and put one foot out to take a step—.

I rushed forward and caught the man around the waist just before he connected with the ground. "What are you _doing?"_ I cried, heaving him up whilst trying not to pay attention to his large hands settling comfortably on my body, one on my shoulder and the other on my hip. He lifted his head to look up at me, his face glistening with sweat and his eyes filled with pain that soon turned into something else as he saw who I was.

A smirk spread across his face, "Marietta. _Buon giorno_."

My own face darkened. "What are you doing?" I repeated darkly, "There is no way you should be walking around!"

He stood up tall, balancing on his one good leg as he shrugged, "I grew bored without your company." I was painfully aware of his hand on my hip and of the other near my neck, where his thumb gently rubbed over my collarbone. I kept the scowl on my face.

"So you decided to try and kill yourself?" I growled before whispering to myself, "Stupid." Not knowing whether I was calling him stupid or me stupid. Probably both.

I heaved him over to the couch and all but threw him down, shooting a glare at the two girls who just shrugged. I growled under my breath as I detached Federico's hands from my body, before standing over him with my hands on my hips, glaring. He just smirked up at me.

I let out a breath of anger and shook my head in disgust. "Federico, do you know how important it is for us to get out of the city? There are _twice_ as many guards out there than there were yesterday!" I spat out, pointing furiously at the door. Federico's face dropped.

"There are guards knocking at people's doors now, and I have no doubt that soon, they're gonna start searching houses. Us just being here is risking the lives of every single person in this building, and all that is delaying us from leaving this place is _you,_" I pointed accusingly at him. "You need to rest that leg of yours, you hear me? Not be stupid and walk around on it. It needs time to heal. And so do you." Federico's eyes dropped from mine, looking crestfallen.

I sighed, "Claudia, could you please take him back to his room?"

She sighed dramatically before helping him stand and leading him from the room, whispering harshly under her breath as they went. I turned to Paola, "Has his leg even stopped bleeding yet?" I asked, exasperated and more than a bit annoyed. I glared at her from the corner of my eye.

She didn't answer, but said instead, "You truly care about him, don't you?"

I humph-ed and rolled my eyes, "I care about everyone. It's one of my biggest faults."

"Feeling compassion for life is not a fault. You have a big heart, Marietta. It is something strange to see after all of the stories I have heard about you."

I turned my head, not meeting her eyes.

It was a good week and a half before Federico was deemed fit to walk, and to leave. I didn't know who was playing doctor to him nor whether or not they had actually passed their doctorate but I highly doubted it. There was no way in hell, had I been his doctor, that I would have let that man move for at least a month. His leg injury was no scratch and I had been there to observe his attempts to prove that he could walk on it; I had seen the agony he hid behind his bravado. I was afraid that he would only serve to injure himself further and more permanently. Federico, Paola and I decided to leave in the early morning, just after the sun had risen.

"The guards'll be tired and grumpy and they won't be bothered searching every single person who comes and goes from the city," I concluded, determination blazing in my blue eyes. Paola and Federico nodded in agreement, surprisingly enough.

Paola went upstairs, presumably to tell Claudia and the kid, Petruccio of the plan, but Federico just sat there, gazing at me. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and subtly flinched away as he raised a hand to stroke my face. I quickly moved away, uncomfortable and guilty. I stood, bid him goodnight, and left, realising that I had to finally tell Leo what was happening. I had still not told him that I was leaving, for I didn't want him to let me go.

The guards had searched Leonardo's workshop the day before, and they were none too gentle about it. They upturned chairs, upset important documents, and unbound all of the bodies in the corner, checking and double that each one was dead. Leonardo had sworn and raged over it until the moment he passed out on the couch and I hadn't been able to stop laughing until I passed out next to him.

I had arrived from _La Rosa Colta_ no less than an hour ago, and had had a bath, changed into my pyjama shirt and had kept putting it off until after we had had dinner. And then, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Leonardo?"

"_Si?"_ His head was bent low over whatever he was working on, his quill was scribbling furiously across the paper, from right to left. He seemed deep in thought.

I took a deep breath in, ridiculously nervous. "The Auditore's are going to live with their uncle," I told him, not wanting to give him too much information. I had seen my movies. Giving him too much information could put him in a lot of danger.

"Oh?" I saw his eyebrows rise but he didn't look up, clearly not catching my drift.

I licked my lips and shifted uncomfortably. "They want me to go with them," I finally got out.

Leonardo's quill slipped form between his fingers and from where I stood I could see that whatever he had been writing had been ruined by a thick smudge of black ink. The quill hit the table with a small clunk, it being the only sound in the workshop besides the crackling of the fire. I stared at Leonardo, my eyebrows upturned, worriedly. He still didn't look up. I watched as his hands clenched tightly into fists. "Leo?" I asked softly. At last, his head rose and his blue eyes searched mine. The look of hurt on his face tugged at my heart. I swallowed the lump in my throat.

His mouth opened and closed twice before he asked, "Do you want to go?" His voice was soft and deep, and monotonous, not at all like his usual self.

I stared at him for a long moment, wondering at his question myself. Then I shook my head, "No," I answered honestly, my voice still quiet. There was tension in the air, thick and muscle-stiffening, I couldn't move if I wanted to. "But I have to. It's too dangerous for me to stay here after what I did. For me, and for you."

Leonardo's eyes and head lowered again, but I could see him nodding. His shoulders were tense and his hands were still in fists. "When do you leave?"

I took another deep breath in, moving my eyes to gaze at the pile of indecipherable pages hanging precariously off the edge of the table. "Tomorrow morning, while the guards are still half asleep."

I saw him nodding again. "The most desirable time… the men will be struggling to keep their eyes open, and their wits will not be about them," he said slowly, the monotone still in his voice.

The corner of my mouth turned up as I nodded in agreement. "Yeah. That's what I said…" I shrugged.

His head rose again as he smiled sadly at me. My heart skipped a beat, and then another, and then I was swallowing and swallowing at the lump in my throat and it wasn't going down…

In the end all I could do was hold back the waterworks. I have to leave, I told myself. There's no other choice.

I silently watched as Leonardo walked stiffly around the table, and then came to stand in front of me, not looking at my face. I stared at his bright red beret atop his dark golden hair, swearing not to cry, no matter what. I won't. I won't.

Then he raised his head, and blue met blue. He laid his hands on my cheeks, and the sadness in his face made the lump grow so much that I could barely breathe. His voice was soft, but I could hear the emotion in it. I could hear how it shook and wobbled as he, like I, fought for control. He was clearly better at it than I.

"You go, and you stay safe, you hear me? I command it. You will stay safe, and you will stay unharmed, and if you do not, Jessica, I swear to the Lord I will find you and I will kill you myself," he let in a shuddering breath, blinking hard for a moment. "Do not think for a moment that I am joking, for I am not," he paused, as tears flowed down his red cheeks. "I love you, Jessica, and I consider you family. You have my blessing and my well-wishes as you leave our home. But know, that you will always be welcome back. Always."

That did it, I started sobbing. I couldn't speak, I couldn't think, I couldn't do bloody anything. He wrapped his arms around me as we cried our goodbyes.

I was awake the next morning, far before the sun rose, far before the knock on the door.

I rose from the couch, fully dressed, breakfasted and ready, and opened the door. Claudia stood there with a small smile, and behind her was the kid, Federico, and another older woman, whom I guessed by resemblance was their mother.

I went to step out of the place but stopped. I turned to stare at the workshop. At the staircase. At the tables. At the chairs. At the fireplace. At the bookcase. I took a deep breath, and then I left.

_Not forever_.

It wasn't as hard as I thought it would be; sneaking out of Florence. The guards barely glanced at us as we hurried, not too quickly through the streets and to the gates. The gates were the hard part. There were five guards standing in our way and four guards after them.

We stopped and I looked over to Federico, with an expression asking, _'What now?_'

Federico smiled and said, "Watch this."

He sauntered –limped – over to a group of giggling prostitutes, said something to them before handing over a small pouch and then sauntering back over. I stared at him with an expression now reading; _'WTF?'_

He winked at me and inclined his head toward the guards, "Just watch."

I did. The scantily clad women strolled up to the guards, giggling and smiling and sending them smouldering looks. With a wiggle of their hips, a few compliments and a batting of their eyelashes, the guards had left their posts and were entirely entranced by the prostitutes. I chuckled as Federico gallantly took my arm and we strolled out of the gates unnoticed. But then came the White Hood. And the horses.

I read somewhere once that horses can smell your fear. That knowledge, of course, just made me even more frightened. What kind of freaky-ass creature can smell someone's emotions? Does anyone not think that's really weird? Looking around, I saw that Federico was saddled, Claudia was sitting with the kid behind her, the White Hood was up, and their mum was settled, and they all looked at me then expectantly. I focussed on the creature, who now looked down at me with a bored expression in it's hazel eyes and went, "Brrrrrrr!" while shaking it's head. I slowly made my way to the side of the horse, and stared warily at the saddle. How the hell was I supposed to get all the way up there? I looked down at the stirrups, and then up at the saddle. If I put my foot there, and my hand there. My mind made the calculations, the physics and then showed me each of the possible failures. Me falling on my face, on my butt, on my back.

Finally, I put one foot on the stirrup, one hand on the front knobby bit of the saddle and heaved myself, swinging one leg over and then steadying myself, whilst the whole time my brain recounted every swear word it knew. Suddenly, I was on a horse. I wasn't ready for the feeling of this great monster beneath me; the feeling of my legs moving against it's ribs as it breathed in and out, the warmth of it's body, the smooth softness of it's brown coat. I found myself in awe. So freaking cool.

I grabbed a hold of the reins and looked over to make sure that both of my feet were secure in the stirrups. And then, I looked up, the biggest grin of my life lighting up my face. Federico immediately smiled back, as did the kid. Claudia shook her head at me, trying to hide her own smile, and the mum just looked at me like I had grown another head. The White Hood was staring at me, but I couldn't see the expression on his face beneath his hood. I looked back to Federico. "Does he have a name?" I asked.

He laughed, "Would you like to name him?" I nodded my head furiously, causing him to laugh again.

"Alright, what—?"

"Sebastian," I answered immediately.

"Sebastian?" I nodded. Federico smiled, "Sebastian it is."

I looked down at the giant horse head in front of me and slowly, cautiously, I reached out to pat his dark mane. He was so warm. So powerful. I leant forward, toward his ear and patted him more surely now. "'Sup Sebby?" I murmured happily. He made a snorting noise and I laughed.

"Marietta!" I looked up to see that the family had started moving and after a moment, I figured out how to make Sebby follow after them. The reins felt weird in my hands, made of leather. They were attached to that little metal bit inside Sebby's mouth. They controlled him.

_They do not. Nothing can truly control him. Nor you._

I nodded my head. Damn right.

And so, we began our unbelievably long ride to Monteri-Moneteree-…that place.


	9. Chapter 8 (2014)

"How could this have happened to us?" Claudia asked.

"I do not know."

"Do you think we'll ever be able to return?"

"I do not know," Federico's voice was soft as he looked at his sister, fatigue clear in his eyes.

The White Hood, Ezio, rode at the front of the group, a good five metres from the rest of us and he hadn't spoken a word nor glanced my way since we arrived. A man of mystery, that one. The kid, Petruccio, had fallen asleep behind Claudia, and she held onto his clasped hands where they were around her waist as she continued to question Federico. I could see the pain and weariness in the eldest brother's eyes as he answered his sister and as I turned my gaze to inspect the tight, high shoulders of Ezio before me and the lowered head of their mother, Maria, I wondered if Claudia wasn't voicing the thoughts of every one of the Auditore family. Thoughts they were clearly trying to suppress. Even having lost my own father so many years ago, I could only begin to imagine the pain of their loss. My dad's death had been an accident; the collapse of a mine shaft. The autopsy revealed his body had been crushed in such a way that he died instantly. That alone had given my family solace. Their father's death, however, had not been an accident. Not in the least. The three brothers had watched their father cut down before them.

"What will happen to our house?"

"Claudia, please—" I started gently, but was interrupted.

"We don't know, Claudia!" he all but shouted at her, tugging harshly on his horse's reins and turning his head to glare at her. Claudia's face had turned to an expression of shock before her eyes filled with tears and she lowered her head and began to weep.

"Ezio!" Federico scolded his brother. The White Hood turned his horse and continued on his way. I stared wide eyed at his retreating back. Claudia continued to cry as we followed after him.

Hours passed and it felt as if we still hadn't gotten anywhere, and now, my legs hurt. It felt like the most painful chafing you had ever had the honour of receiving only doubled. Every movement of the horse caused the pain to flare, and I was hissing, 'ahh'ing and wincing along for a good half hour before we stopped for what I supposed was lunch.

The sun was right above us in the sky now, and it wasn't as gentle as I thought it would be; I had rolled my sleeves up several kilometres before and I was concerned about sunburn. The family all slid gracefully off their horses and began rifling through their saddle bags. I, on the other hand, was stuck. I was convinced now that if I even attempted to move that all of the skin on my thighs would scrape off and the blood would soak through my pants and I'd die a hot, horrible, bloody death. Sebby snorted and shook his head impatiently. I groaned softly in pain. I looked up to see Federico slightly limping over, barely concealing his laughter, and his own pain. His leg obviously hurt, probably more than mine did.

"Would you like some assistance, _bella?"_ he offered me his hand.

I was so embarrassed, and in so much pain. But I was far too proud to admit that I couldn't get of a bloody horse by myself. So, I waved his offer away and with the grace of a new-born calf, fell the thousand feet down to the ground, swearing loudly as I went, before standing up, going to take a step toward the others and swearing again under my breath as my legs collapsed beneath me. Strong arms wound around me, and the deep sound of his laughter enveloped me.

I pushed him away, blushing, and went to lean on Sebby instead. I wrapped my arms around his neck, well, as far as I could, and he turned his head to look at me curiously. I could still hear the laughter of Federico and the others while I stood there, slowly discovering that the act of standing up and letting all of the blood rush back into the chafed part of my legs just caused the pain to double, and then triple.

"Oh, leave her alone, brother." Claudia scolded.

"I didn't say anything!"

"You are laughing at the poor girl!"

"I am doing no such thing!"

"Oh, you are such a _bugiardo!"_

I let out a long, sharp hiss of pain before telling myself to suck it up. I shook my head once, hard and fast and took several long breaths. We ate our lunch of berries, bread and cheese and had a couple of swigs of water each before getting back on our horses and continuing on our way. My legs hurt. They hurt so much. They hurt more than much, they hurt like… like how much Anakin Skywalker must've hurt when he got burnt by the lava in Revenge of The Sith, like how much Wolverine must've hurt when he got all that adamantium bonded to his bones, like how Ripley must've hurt when she jumped into that pool of molten lead in Aliens 3….

We spent the night in a deserted barn, where I tossed and turned and was in constant fear of spiders and other insects crawling into my hair, ears, nose and mouth and settling there, laying eggs and making their nests. We had no more food than the remains of what the White Hood had brought for lunch, and I ended up giving the rest of my share to the miserable looking Petruccio who thanked me quietly before digging in.

The next morning we took turns washing in a small river nearby and then continued on our way. We passed quite a few people on our journey, but none seemed to recognise us. I gazed across at the green rolling hills and the lush farmland and forests beyond and thought that this all didn't seem real. We passed an orchard and the White Hood got off his horse and disappeared for several minutes before returning with a small bag of fruit, one for each of us. I noticed with some concern that he, himself didn't eat. I wondered what he was thinking and how he was coping with all he was going through. I promised myself I'd keep an eye on him.

Soon, the sun became low in the sky, and the look on Federico's tired face as he quickened his horse to ride beside me was one of relief. "We are almost there, _bella,_" he said softly, pointing across the hills to a small, high-walled town in the distance.

_"Grazie a Dio,"_ I heard Claudia sigh behind us.

I sat up straighter, rolling my shoulders and turning my head side to side, hearing the satisfying cracks. Now my back and neck hurt as well, and my legs were numb.

The hills beside the road were very high, and covered in bush. It felt as if we were in some kind of tiny valley. The dirt road was turning gently left now, and as we followed it, the hills began to flatten and suddenly the view of golden dolphins and crosses against solid blue filled my sight. My grip tightened on the reins as our little group was taken aback by the dozen or so men before us dressed in blue and gold and well armed.

"Ah, Ezio! _Buon' sera!_ And your family as well… What a pleasant surprise!" The man who spoke was shorter than the rest and had a reasonably pleasant face but for the cruel look in his eyes and the nasty smile on his lips.

"Vieri!" the White Hood snarled. I watched as Federico left my side and moved forward to sit beside him.

Oh god, we were going to die. They had us outnumbered, and we had minimal weapons. The White Hood had his sword and his retractable blade which Leonardo had spent hours repairing, and of course, I had my dagger, but what good was that going to do? I couldn't fight!

"The same," the man, who although appeared overweight, had obvious strength in his arms and legs, replied, seeming menacingly gleeful, "As soon as they released my father from custody, he was more than happy to finance this little hunting party for me. I was hurt. After all, how could you think of leaving Florence without saying a proper goodbye? After everything we've been through…" He shook his head, as if saddened by this.

The White Hood waved a hand, indicating that we three girls should move back. We complied more than happily. I looked over at Claudia to see her eyes wide with fear, and the wide awake kid behind her looking uncannily alike. Their mother seemed calm, almost disconnected. I frowned and turned back to where the men were facing off. I could almost smell the testosterone in the air.

_You need to stay out of this fight. Stay on defence. Protect your family._ That voice startled me every time.

My family? I looked over at Claudia, the kid, and their mother in confusion. They weren't who it meant, were they?

"What is it you want, Vieri?" Federico called.

The man laughed, placing his hands on his hips. "Ahh, what do I want? Where to even begin? So many things! Let's see… I'd like a larger _palazzo_, a prettier wife," he smiled, looking past the White hood to see Claudia who turned a bright shade of red and began swearing loudly at him. Vieri merely laughed, "Much more money and – what else? – Oh, yes! Your _head!_" At this, Vieri motioned for his men to stay where they were, and advanced toward the White Hood, drawing his sword.

Almost in perfect sync, the White Hood and Federico dismounted their horses. I noticed, however, how Federico's right leg seemed to falter beneath him. My brow furrowed in concern. I hoped he'd be alright.

"I'm surprised, Vieri – are you really going to take us on all alone? It's two against one, if you didn't notice. But of course your bully boys are right behind you!" the White Hood jeered. I wondered how well he was thinking this all through.

The man just laughed, sheathing his sword, "I don't think you are worthy of my sword. I think I'll just finish you off with my fists." Again, Vieri looked around Ezio to Claudia, "I am sorry if this distresses you, _tesora_. But don't worry – it won't take too long, then I'll see what I can do to comfort you." Then, for the first time, his eyes travelled to me, and I watched as they widened in shock. "Marietta Sanfilippo? What—?" He seemed completely taken by surprise and he looked at me with an expression of bafflement, but before he could say anything else, the White Hood surged forward and smashed his fist into his jaw.

Vieri staggered, taken off guard for a moment. He regained his footing and hurled himself toward the White Hood with a furious roar. His fist connected with the White Hood's shoulder. The White Hood kicked out at Vieri, making contact with his stomach. Vieri doubled over, grunting. He swung a wild punch at the White Hood, who dodged it easily. He stepped into the man, landing a fist in the soft of his belly. Vieri grabbed his tunic and flung him away. He steadied himself and raised his hands to block another wild, angry punch. Vieri aimed a jab at the White Hood's side and it landed. All the while, Federico stood on the side line, watching intently, ready to step in if it seemed that the White Hood would come out worse.

_Examine his movements,_ the voice commanded suddenly, _Watch how he dodges, how he manoeuvres his feet, how he uses his enemy's anger against him. Learn from the man. Learn how to defeat him. _

"What? Defeat who?" I asked, confused.

_Ezio Auditore,_ the voice sounded slightly exasperated. The sudden appearance of emotion surprised me. It had sounded so monotonous and authoritative before. Now it sounded almost human. Certainly feminine.

_Only when you defeat him, will you be ready._

The surprise melded into shock, "You want me to fight him? What for?"

Of course, there was no answer, just, _Watch._

I shook my head in bewilderment and frowned. There was no way that I could fight anyone and win. Especially not the White Hood, but I did as I was told.

Both men were locked together, wrestling for control, occasionally staggering back only to fling themselves at each other with renewed vigour. It was true; the White Hood was using the fat man's anger against him.

As I watched, the man threw a huge punch straight toward the White Hood's head. The White Hood stepped forward and the blow glanced uselessly off his shoulder. Vieri's momentum carried his weight forward, and the White Hood stuck his foot out, sending the Vieri's arse to the ground. I couldn't hold back a smile of amusement through my fear. The man scrambled to his feet and retreated back behind his cronies. "I tire of this," he said, as if it were his idea to finish the fight. He turned to his men, "Finish them off and the women too. But not the one wearing pants. Bring her to me," he ordered.

My eyes widened in terror. "What? What does he want me for?" I cried aloud to, taking a tighter grip on Sebastian's reins.

_Stay on your defence. Protect yourself. Do not let them take you._

The White Hood and Federico were standing before us, about a metre and a half away. The White Hood had handed his sword over to Federico and was standing there with nothing but a tiny blade attached to his wrist as Vieri's cronies ran toward him. My heart leapt in my chest, and fear swelled in my throat. And then, the battle began.

It was all happening so quickly, the sound of clashing metal filled my ears, and the pained cries of men soon joined it. The White Hood had somehow re-acquired a sword, Federico had his own and together, the brothers were making short work of Vieri's cronies, not letting any past them. It seems I had underestimated them. I watched as the White Hood parried an attack and kicked out in retaliation. The man fell painfully to the ground and was trampled by his fellows. Federico was not as aggressive. He dodged swiftly out of the way of an attack, stepping skilfully toward the man and running him through his side. The White Hood roared, leaping toward his opponents, sword held high. Federico was silent, cutting and slicing and weaving his way through the men. As I watched, I realised that Federico was significantly more disciplined and trained than his brother. Professionally, it seemed. As skilled as he was, however, it did not mask the fact that he was injured, which seemed to not be obvious only to me.

Another of Vieri's men stood forward to face Federico, a determined look upon his thin face. They circled one another. They stepped in, he parried. I grew suspicious. The man attacked high, Federico blocked it easily. The man stepped closer. My eyes grew wide. His foot rose, pulled back and connected with Federico's right shin. I swore. Federico shouted in pain, crashing to the ground, unable to continue.

"Oh god," I breathed in horror. My eyes widened. My heart thumped in my chest, aching with concern. Beneath me, Sebastian shifted about nervously, shaking his head every so often. He was as frightened as I was. There were still about half a dozen men, all trying to take the White Hood down as he moved to stand over his fallen brother. It was hopeless; there was no way he could defeat them all. Without a second thought, I dismounted Sebby, drew my dagger and strode toward the battle, feeling sure that I was going to wet myself any second.

"Marietta! What are you _doing?!"_ I heard Claudia scream in fright. I ignored her.

I didn't really know what I was going to do to help, but I knew I had to do _something_…I tried as hard as I could to not freak out as I began walking quickly toward the battle.

_Stay out of this fight. Protect yourself,_ the voice commanded.

"I have to help him." I said, not faltering in my stride.

_Jessica, __**stop**__. _

"No," I said defiantly. I had to help him; I had to help them both— my body stopped; an action that was not of my own will. I blinked in surprise and looked down at myself, searching for whatever it was that was restraining me in angry confusion.

**_Stay out of this fight!_**For the first time, anger exploded through the voice, and my chest clenched in fear.

"But—" just as I began to protest, a sharp whistling sound reached my ears, and I looked up. Two of the guards to the White Hood's left crumpled to the ground. From where I was, I couldn't see why, or how.

The other guards immediately drew back in alarm, but not before another of them fell.

"What sorcery is this?" Vieri cried, sounding angry and afraid.

His question was answered by a deep, booming laugh, and a voice that didn't have a face, "Not sorcery, boy! Skill!"

Vieri searched around, wide eyed, "S-show yourself!"

From out of nowhere, a large man wearing high-boots and a light breastplate emerged, stepping out to the right of the White Hood and Federico, flanked by several others who were all wearing similar outfits.

"Mercenaries!" Vieri snarled, turning to what was left of his men. "What are you waiting for? Kill them! Kill them all!"

Just as he was saying this, the large man laughed again. "I don't think that's a very good idea, little Pazzi." As he spoke, he walked over, snatched the sword from Vieri's hands and snapped it in two over his knee. The fat man quivered in fear, and ran for his life, all the while screaming at the last of his men to kill us. The moment before he disappeared around the corner, Vieri turned his head to look at me. Straight at me. And then he was gone.

His men stood there for a moment, and then extremely reluctantly, they attacked. This fight was short, for as soon as two of the seven men we were fighting had fallen, the survivors dropped their weapons and ran for it.

I, meanwhile, was still stuck to the ground. I watched as the White Hood and the large man helped Federico to his feet. For a moment he wavered, looking as if he were going to fall. The White Hood held his hands toward his brother, ready to catch him. The moment passed, and Federico waved him away, saying something to him reassuringly. Of course, the first thing he did after that was turn around, search for a moment, and then limp quickly over to me.

"Are you alright, Marietta?" he asked, holding me by the upper arms and looking me up and down for injuries. I shrugged him off violently.

"Just… _peachy_," I grumbled, trying in vain to lift my feet off of the ground. Briefly, Federico glanced over my shoulder at his family, and then let out a huge sigh, filled with relief and weariness.

"Come," he said, offering me his arm. I ignored him, swearing underneath my breath.

You're a damn liar, I thought furiously, Let me go! Let me go or I swear I'll do something I might regret! Immediately, visions entered my mind of me taking my dagger and slicing my left hand clean off.

_You would never. _The stupid voice sounded so sure of itself.

Oh, yeah? Well before, you said that _nothing_ could control me! Well, what are you trying to do now?! I roared. The sheer magnitude of my anger frightened me; I could hear the blood flowing through my ears, could feel it pumping through my head. My hands shook, my fingers tightening painfully around the metal hilt of the knife. Every muscle I knew was clenched.

_You must not be harmed._

"_Let. Me. Go_." I hissed, fire in my eyes. And then I was free. The anger I had been feeling disappeared quickly as I gazed into Federico's confused eyes; embarrassment and _fear_ replaced it. I looked down briefly at my left hand. What the hell _is_ this thing? An awkward silence surrounded us as Federico continued to stare at me weirdly.

"… So that was scary, huh?" I finally offered with a small, nervous smile.

Federico's face darkened as the confusion vanished, "Yes, and I do not think that that was the last we will see of Vieri de Pazzi. But no matter…" He gently ran the back of his fingers down my cheek, the movement so swift I barely had time to register it before his hand dropped and his voice brightened considerably, "Come, I would like you to meet someone." He placed a hand on the small of my back and gestured widely toward the large man and his posse. I stared up at him for a moment in confusion, my heart beating erratically while I wondered if that had actually happened. He so obviously pretended not to notice.

I let out a small sigh and sheathed my dagger, shooting a quick glance over my shoulder at Claudia and the rest, who were still on their horses. They looked frazzled, but unharmed. Thank the White Hood for that.

The two groups strode toward each other, meeting half way. "Marietta, this is my uncle, Mario," he introduced. "Mario, this is Marietta Sanfilippo."

The large man grinned at me. "Hello," I said simply. My head tilted slightly to the side noting with interest that his left eyes was blind and that a large, jagged scar ran across that same side of his face. With an impressive moustache, long dark hair, and thick, bushy and stern eyebrows, he was clearly a man no to be messed with. "Ah! _Signorina _Marietta, I have heard much about you!" He bowed, taking my hand and planting a soft kiss on the back of it. His moustache felt weird on my skin. "You are all that Federico talks about when he visits, you know. He is always in _such_ a hurry to get back to Florence, and to _you_."

I blushed and glanced toward Federico to see him grinning proudly down at me. I looked away and Mario laughed at me, "Come, all of you."

He wrapped one huge arm around my shoulders and squeezed. I found myself squished into the sweaty, stinky armpit of the older man. "I have much to show you!" he cried happily, seemingly sincerely excited. He seemed like good man. I relaxed beneath him as I waddled awkwardly along, trying not to upset the severe chafing. I looked over my shoulder, trying not to trip over my own feet keeping up with Mario's huge strides and saw the White Hood lean over and murmur something to Federico.

Whatever he said, Federico mustn't have liked because his face darkened as they both looked up and stared straight at me. Was this about Vieri? I had a feeling it was. I also had a feeling that I was missing something hugely important here. There was a secret in this family. I turned my head. It was none of my business.

_Not yet._


	10. Chapter 9 (2014)

This Monteriggioni place was… well, quite frankly, a dump. I smiled and '_ahh_'ed, though as Mario gave me a quick tour of the town. At some corners I couldn't hide my disgust at the smell and sight of the streets and houses, but I didn't comment.

Many of the buildings were falling apart and the windows and doors were boarded up. It was obvious that this town was poor but I could see some big potential. If a couple of people got together with some brooms, hammers and planks of wood they could fix this place right up. The townspeople were all walking along, most heading home for the night but others were clearly headed to the pub which was the liveliest thing in the whole town.

Mario led us up a massive staircase, made of smooth limestone or something of that colour and texture that was covered in black grime and mud. I took a half-interested glance at the round, fenced-off area on the first level. "What's that for?" I asked, looking up at Mario.

"It is the sparring area. My men practice there."

"With swords?"

"Among other things."

"What other things?" I looked at him with inquisitive eyes.

To my surprise and annoyance, Mario just laughed and shook his head. "Nothing that a woman such as yourself would be interested in," he smiled gently and continued walking. My face pulled into a disgusted and outraged sneer which I quickly pulled a mask of indifference in front of. I shook my head unhappily before waddling after him.

The manor which Mario and the Auditore's apparently owned wasn't as big as I had imagined. So, _okay_, it was like, a hundred times bigger than my house and Leo's, sure, but it turned out that Mario actually owned this whole town - you'd expect him to have a huge castle on a hill with a moat filled with crocodiles; at least, _I_ did.

The main hall was wide, open and empty but for a large staircase leading to the upper levels and an incredibly beautiful and detailed chandelier. It would have been breath-taking if not for the cob-webs and dirt and dust coating every inch of visible surface. Not to mention the musty smell. "_Casa, dolce casa," _Mario smiled, gesturing to the place widely with his arms. Whilst I just stood, looking around with a without even bothering to wonder what he just said, the Auditore's – obviously having lived their entire lives surrounded by fake smiles and over-the-top-politeness – all smiled at him and nodded, with the exception of their mother. She had her head down and was holding her hands in front of her, her thin knuckles white.

"None of you have been here since you were tiny!" Mario boomed, his huge voice echoing loudly around the high-roofed room. "So, what do you think?"

"It is most impressive, Uncle," Federico's strained voice said pleasantly.

Mario looked at us – we, pathetic a group all dirty, sore and exhausted, and, on the White Hood's part; bloody – and smiled sympathetically. "You must be exhausted; come, I will show you to your accommodations."

By 'you' he meant 'you girls'. To the men he said; "Wait in the study, will you?"

I rolled my eyes at the sexist attitude this guy was emitting, but followed him anyway. Truthfully, I didn't think that I would make it up those stairs. He showed Claudia to her room first, and she disappeared with a polite, _"Buona notte". _The kid and his mum were shown to another room and she pulled the same act as Claudia, but the kid surprised me; he flung his arms around my waist and buried his face in my stomach. After the initial shock, I hugged him back tightly, squeezing my eyes closed as I did. We said like that for a long moment before I kissed him gently on the top of his long, dark hair and whispered, "_Buona notte_, kiddo."

He whispered, "Goodnight, Marietta," and we parted.

My room was the very last one on the right, just before a massive window that looked out across the town.

Mario swung the door open for me and stepped to the side, gesturing for me to go in. It was decorated in very earthy colours; different shades of dark green and brown. Against the wall to the left was a large four-poster bed with a high pale coloured wooden head board and around the room there were several very uncomfortable looking couches and chairs. They reminded me of my grandma's old chairs that she had inherited from her mum – the one's that always smelled like old people where they sat in the corner of the lounge, untouched. The only person who ever liked those chairs was the old cat. I felt a pang of longing as I stood there, gazing sadly at them. I heard Mario Auditore bid me goodnight before softly closing the door.

I sighed, making sure all of the curtains were shut before I painfully stripped out of my clothes and pulled on Leo's huge shirt I had worn every night since I got here. I had no problem going to bed dirty and sweaty. I threw my clothes into a pile on the chair next to the bed and sat down on it, my spread slightly apart so that my thighs were not in the least in danger of touching. I lifted up the shirt to inspect the rash and cringed.

I'd do anything for some body butter right now. Or aloe vera. Or anything. I sighed, looking around the room.

And then I heard the voices. Frowning, I stood up and looked around – the sounds seemed to be coming from the far corner of the room, beyond the bed. I walked over and ran my eyes across the wall. There was a small section right in the corner next to a torch that was a slightly lighter shade of muddy brown than the rest of the wall. I leant over and ran my fingertips lightly across it, excitement thrumming through me. Could this seriously be a secret passage?

I glanced around, "I wonder how it o—" There was a sharp pain in my left hand and I heard a dull, soft thunking noise and suddenly that lighter part of the wall was swinging outward toward me, revealing a dark, rectangular, wooden tunnel about half my height but twice my width. "pens…" I finished in a whisper as I bent down. The voices were louder now and as I bent down and began slowly crawling along, the sounds turned to words.

"… and then Marietta, Ezio, Pettrucio and I managed to stumble to _La Rosa Colta_ where Paola's girls nursed me back to health. Once I was able to walk we snuck out of Firenze and headed straight here," I heard Federico's voice.

"So Marietta Sanfilippo saved your lives?" came Mario's stunned, deep exclamation.

"Unbelievable, isn't it?" Ah, there was Ezio.

I crawled a bit further, barely breathing. At the end of the tunnel there was this small grating no bigger than my hand. I squinted through it. I was looking out over what must've been the study. Mario was standing behind a desk, both hands on the dark wood, shaking his head. Federico was sitting on a seat in front of it and Ezio was leaning over against the window sill, his arms crossed over his chest and his hood hiding his eyes.

I pulled away from the grating and sat down, getting comfortable as I prepared to eavesdrop on their entire conversation. It was actually quite boring for a long while. Mario and Federico went over the story a couple more times, sometimes cursing loudly at a man named, Uberto Alberti. One thing I did find out was that Ezio had killed him, publicly. He was a murderer, then. A real, live murderer.

I remembered that night I had had the dream about my dad and had woken up and seen the White Hood standing on the roof of the building across the street, covered in blood. That was the man, Alberti's blood. I shivered, sickened.

"Do you mean to say Giovanni never told him?"

"Told me what?" I heard Ezio's voice snap. I perked up, leaning toward the grate. Shit, what had I missed?

I heard Federico sigh wearily. Bullshit with the women in bed before 7 o'clock thing! That boy needed to rest for a week. "Father wanted to wait until he was older. He didn't believe that he was ready."

"What are you both talking about? What did Father not tell me?"

There was silence. I wasn't breathing.

"You said you found documents in the secret room in your father's study. Did you take them from Alberti when he died?"

There was a heavy, aggravated sigh, "_Si_. Here." I heard an hard thud and then the soft tapping of boots leaving the room. I jumped when the door slammed.

"You have to tell him." Federico said.

"He's _your_ brother."

"He's _your_ nephew."

They grumbled lowly to each other for a while longer about things I didn't understand. I knew that there was a secret here. I knew that Ezio wanted to know what it was just as much as I did. There was the sound of a chair scraping back and a soft groan as Federico stood. "We'll tell him tomorrow, Uncle. Together. I'm going to go bid Marietta goodnight and then head to bed myself. It has been a long day and my leg is sore."

My eyes widened at this and I pulled myself out of my quite comfortable position, turning around in the small space and crawling as quickly and quietly as I could back toward my room.

The passage was about thirty centimetres from the ground and my clumsy ass succeeded in tumbling out of it as my hand fell through the air, forgetting, and expecting to hit even ground. I landed with a thud in a heap on the hard wood and lay there for a moment in shock, groaning softly as a dull pain reverberated through my shoulder and hip. Then I clambered to my wobbly feet, hissing as my thighs brushed together and turned to the secret door, swinging it closed as gently as I could. It fell into place with a satisfying, whooshing thud.

I let out a relieved breath before moving around the room and blowing out all of the candles, leaving the one near the door for last. There was a soft knock on the door and I looked down at myself in my big shirt that just brushed my knees and hung in a low v revealing just the top of my breasts. I pulled the neckline closed, brushed my fingers quickly though my hair and hoped that I didn't look too breathless or guilty.

I flung the door open; the movement pulling the shirt up to my thigh and re-opening the neckline; revealing my collar bone and part of my shoulder. I quickly moved my arms to hug myself as Federico's gentle smiling face fell into a look of shock and awe as his eyes travelled over my body.

I felt so damn uncomfortable as he stood there staring. "Federico?" My voice was harsh and filled with warning. His brown eyes shot up to mine and I saw that there was a very seductive twinkle in them.

"I just wanted to say goodnight, Marietta." I stayed silent for a moment as his eyes strayed back downward, and a frown formed on his face, "Whose shirt is—"

I interrupted him quickly, reaching out and taking the door in my hand while my face flushed red, "Well, yes, goodnight!" I cried quickly before closing the door in his frowning face. I leaned my back against it, and listened as he let out a long breath and then hobbled away. I sighed in relief. Well that was awkward. Note to self: tomorrow, go to a shop and buy pyjamas.

I blew out the last candle and walked over to the bed, plopping down on top of the covers. The mattress was soft, filled with what must have been thousands and thousands of feathers, a welcome change from the straw at Leo's. I sunk into it as I slid my body beneath the silky smooth covers, sighing sadly at the thought of my friend. The coolness of the material worked wonders on my throbbing hot rash. I stared up at the dark roof and decided to finally realise the fact that Florence was no crazy town, and Leo and Federico and Ezio were no crazy people. This was all very real. I was in the Fifteenth Century, in Italy. I supposed that meant that I was speaking Italian. How was it then that some snippets of conversation weren't translated then? How did that work? I found myself extremely calm as I thought of all of this. I went over everything I had eaten, everywhere I had gone and everything and everyone I had seen. No wonder it was all so surreal. I was actually, truly in the past. In Italy in the past. I wondered how many people could say that. I wondered briefly of my family, whether or not they knew I was gone. I hoped they didn't worry too much. My mind then flicked over to Leo. My dear, sweet Leo. Leonardo Da Vinci. The one and only. I couldn't believe it but it made so much sense; the mirror writing, the sculptures, the paintings, the inventions… I had always imagined Da Vinci as an old man with a very long beard, not a young, incredibly energetic fresh-faced and innocent boy. I laughed out loud, my heart bursting with wonder and pride. My Leo was going to be one of the most intelligent, loved and well known men of all time.

How could this have happened? How could it be that I had actually met and lived and been cared for by the actual Leonardo Da Vinci? I raised my left hand and saw the circle glowing faintly in the darkness. Everything that had happened had been because of this. I could hear the voice because of this. At the gallows, I had been able to easily cut through thick rope with my small dagger because the metal had shone with the same light that this emitted from time to time. I supposed I was talking in Italian because of this. I had a pretty good guess that whatever this was, and whoever it was that was talking to me in my head, were the reason I was here in the first place. Now I only had to figure out why. As well as who the hell Marietta Sanfilippo was.

I spent a while longer going over and over my thoughts, before I finally buried my face in my own soft hair and drifted off to sleep, dreaming of old cats napping upon old chairs in the warmth of the summer sun.


	11. Chapter 10 (2014)

_Jessica. Wake up. Jessica. Wake up. Jessica…_

My weary eyes opened slowly to stare at an unfamiliar roof. My left palm throbbed dully where it rested on my stomach. I let in a deep, slow breath, closed my eyes and held it for a moment, and then released it.

_Jessica. There is something you must see. Get up._

I felt a cool wave of energy flow over and through me, and in a moment, my fatigue vanished and I felt ready and willing to sprint and run and prance and play. The energy had originated from the circle, I noticed, and was not, could not be natural. I sat up, glanced at my sweat soaked, dirty, disgusting clothes on the chair and slid off of the bed, walking over to the dresser on the far wall. There had to be something in there for me. I grabbed the first dress I saw that I supposed would be big enough for me, threw on a thin, white chemise and a simple green dress over the top, lacing it up at the front. I inspected myself briefly, brushing away much of the dust which had gathered on the green velvet over however long it had sat in that drawer.

_Jessica._

"Yeah, yeah, I know. I had to get dressed. I'm not running about in nothing but a shirt." I dug through the drawer and found a pair of long, thin socks which reached my lower thighs and pulled them on beneath my stinking, dirty boots. I had one boot pulled on halfway when I realised that the only thing wrong with me at that moment was I just a tad bit hungry. I wasn't feeling sick, I wasn't feeling hot, I wasn't feeling sore and after a quick check, I noticed that the chafing on my thighs was completely gone.

"That… is weird." I frowned to myself warily, glancing at the circle on my left palm and recalling the cool wave of energy which had rejuvenated me when I awoke. Had it healed me also? Surely not. But then again, I was in the Fifteenth Century so it wasn't like it was the strangest thing that had happened to me.

I tied back my hair with the same purple ribbon Leo had given me and forced myself to ignore the fact that deodorant had not yet been invented and I stank of horse and sweat. Hygiene in this century was a concern. Leo had sat for quite some time having to explain and demonstrate how to clean your teeth without a toothbrush. It was a goddamn pain having to swish vinegar and wine around in my mouth before rubbing each tooth with a cloth and then with some extra herbs, which would always take me a ridiculous amount of time as I was incredibly paranoid about getting a cavity, which in this era, would not turn out well for me. In order to acquire nice smelling breath, I would then have to rub some mint around my mouth which doesn't exactly taste as good as it smelled. In the end I was content with the job it did and only occasionally would I feel the need to fashion myself a toothpick and pick out bits of food and meat. As I travelled through the city and met people, I realised that most of them did not take as much care as I did. Not even Leo, but that had been adjusted quickly after I had arrived.

Another thing which bugged me was the issue of hair, on my head and otherwise. Women obviously went all natural in this era so it was the end of smooth legs and armpits for me, which took a while to get used to. Realising that every other woman in the city was just as hairy as I helped greatly and after a few days I had come to accept it, embrace it even. Curse the idea that women should shave and men shouldn't. What bullshit. Washing the hair on my head on the other hand was not as easy to get used to. Leo bought me a strange powder which I would have to comb through my hair which would absorb all the grease and dirt. Then, once my hair was dry, I would comb another powder which smelled of rose, clove, nutmeg and watercress through it to make it smell lovely. I was used to my showers and washing my hair every night, so having Leo inform me that this was far from common place was like a kick in the head. Even the upper classes didn't bathe that regularly, instead they soaked themselves in perfume in order to keep themselves from stinking. I couldn't comprehend it. I still haven't wrapped my head around the idea, in fact.

One thing I wasn't looking forward to was my menstruation next month. I had no idea how women in this time handled it and I couldn't very well ask Leo. I supposed I would just have to use some sort of cloth…

_Jessica._ I realised I had become very distracted and so I adjusted my boots and dress to make sure everything sat comfortably and I tiptoed out of my bedroom door, down the hall and to the top of the stairs.

My boots tapped softly against the stone floor as I glided down the stairs, pausing on the bottom stair, one hand resting lightly on the banister to look around.

The house was completely silent, the air was empty of any real feeling you'd expect. It didn't even feel like a hotel. It just felt as if it had been abandoned long ago and was merely a shell of what it once was. The main hall was very empty; the walls were bare and everything was old and dusty. I sighed. I missed Leo's home with its mess and chaos and disorder; where the smell of ink, paint and old books assaulted your nostrils and where the outside world seemed a million miles away. Where the tight spaces trapped the warmth of both the fire and Leonardo's love and care, and wherever you stood you felt as if someone were there with you, watching over you. In this house with the high roof, the bare walls, and the empty floor… it just made me feel small and alone. Mario must have been very lonely living in this big house, I thought.

_Go to the study on the left._

I hesitantly poked my head into the room, gazing into the darkness to find it empty of life. I tiptoed in, taking into the large bookshelves on the back wall, the beautiful mahogany desk and an impressive scale model of the entire town of Monty on a table in the middle of the room.

_Find the open window. Go through it. _I found the window and peered out into the night. I hitched a foot up and began to pull myself through, "Why can't I just go out the front door?" I whispered.

_Silence. Do as I say._

Who does she think she is? I thought as I fell off of the window sill and landed on my butt on the hard ground with a grunt. I stood up, brushing myself off. The town was dark but for the couple of lanterns and torches lit around the streets. Now especially with no one walking about, the place look abandoned. And quite creepy. I shivered in the night air. An old, sickly looking tree was silhouetted by the bright moon a couple of metres from where I stood. Its branches swayed menacingly with the gentle breeze. Somewhere in the distance a bird let out a loud, haunting cry. I gulped.

"So do you have a name? I don't want to keep having to call you 'the voice'," I whispered in the night.

_You have no need for a name. Go to the right of the house. _

I moved slowly around the side of the house, "I want a name."

_You humans desire many things you cannot have._

"What do you mean 'humans'? What are you, then? An alien?"

_Not quite. _

I froze as I heard the low, deep hum of male voices nearby. I bent into a half-crouch and became very serious as I slowly and silently snuck further along the wall toward the back of the house. I stopped at the corner and slowly looked around it, taking care to not poke it out too far. I am so ninja, I thought, feeling awesome.

_Focus._

Sorry.

"You say our father was more than just a banker?" I heard the White Hood saying, my eyes zoned in on where the sound came from and I saw Mario and the White hood standing in front of a seated Federico, both with their arms crossed. Mario had his back to me.

The White Hood's wasn't wearing his usual dramatic cape and fancy white clothes, but just a loose linen shirt that was pulled in at the wrists and had a plunging neckline and a pair of dark pants.

Federico had his injured leg stretched out in front of him and his other bent with his arm resting on the knee. He was sitting on the raised rim of some sort of circular structure. A pond of some sort, I supposed. I was proud of myself from picking all of this out from nearly fifteen metres away and through three tall trees with nothing but the moon to help light the place up at what must have been four or five o'clock in the morning.

I breathed in and out quietly through my mouth as I eavesdropped –again—on their conversation.

"Ezio, I know this will be hard for you to hear. It was for me also, but Father was much, much more than just a banker," Federico paused, seemingly readying himself. "Our father was a senior member of the Order of Assassins."

I blinked. Then I blinked again. Once more.

I swore out loud before I could stop myself, stepping back from the corner of the house and leaning my back against it, my eyes wide in excitement. I let out a breath before sticking my head back out to listen to the rest of their conversation. _This _is why people eavesdrop; to find out far-out, crazy, exciting secrets like this.

"I don't believe you," was the White Hood's response. His tone of voice revealed that he wasn't quite sure of his own words.

I heard a loud sigh from Mario and saw him slowly pacing with his hands on his hips and his head down as he shook it. "Of course you don't," he grumbled.

"Ezio, like it or not, it is the truth. Father was an assassin." Federico told him firmly.

"This is unreal! Inconceivable! The medicine must have gone to your head!" The White Hood waved his hand as he turned and too, paced back and forth, his movements much more aggressive than his uncle's.

"Ezio…" Federico sighed.

"Even if it is true, why would he have hidden it from me? …Why did _you?" _

There was a loud sigh. "Ezio there are many secrets in our family, and they are kept for good reason. Mostly, for our family's protection."

"Protection from what?" The White Hood demanded.

"The Order of the Knights Templar." Federico declared, "They are an order that was founded many centuries ago, just after the First Crusade. They started out as just a group of battle-trained monks with armour, but they soon became much more. Two hundred years ago, King Philip of France moved against them, for fear of their ever-rising power. The Templars were purged; arrested, driven away, massacred and excommunicated by the Pope. At last, the Templars seemed to disappear, their power apparently broken. But there were many of them all throughout Europe. They hid underground, hoarding the riches they had salvaged, maintaining their organisation, and bent more than ever now on their true goal." Federico finished, his deep voice severe.

I had heard of the Templar Knights in History at school, but I hadn't really paid all that much attention. I never did. I shook my head, disappointed with myself. This is why you pay attention in the classroom, boys and girls; so that if you suddenly find yourself in the 15th Century, you'll know what everyone is going on about.

"And what was their true goal?"

"What _is_ their true goal, you mean!" Mario corrected in his loud voice. "Their goal is nothing less than world domination. And only one organisation is devoted to thwarting them—the Order of the Assassins, to which your father, your brother and I have the honour to belong."

I chuckled and shook my head at that. Oh, how original. The bad guys' aim is world domination. Where have I heard that before?

"Uberto Alberti was a Templar, Ezio. We had no idea until he betrayed us." Federico said quietly.

"Indeed. As are all the other's on your father's list." Mario added solemnly.

"And… Vieri?"

"He is one as well, and his father Francesco and all the Pazzi clan."

Their conversation fell from my interest as they began to discuss men whom I didn't know and places I had never heard of. My gaze travelled over the backyard of the house, which wasn't really much to boast about, across the stone fence and up to the sky full of unfamiliar stars. I stared for several long minutes, relaxing to the sight and the soothing, deep sound of men's voices. Assassins, I thought in wonder. Real, live assassins. In an order. Fighting against evil. You couldn't make something like that up.

_You do need to move away from the house, _the voice startled me as it reappeared, sounding strangely strained.

What? Why? I began to perk up, my mind returning from the stars.

_You have been spotted._

What? I looked wide-eyed to the men who had gone silent and saw that all three of their heads were turned in my direction; their eyes squinting as they peered into the shadows.

"Who's there?!" The White Hood called, sounding incredibly dangerous.

Panic and fear struck my heart and immediately adrenaline filled my veins. "Oh shit!" I said under my breath as I turned and started sprinting back the way I came, whilst trying to be as quiet as possible. Which wasn't working so well.

I flew down the first flight of stairs and turned left. From there I just kept running, trying to stay under cover as much as I could. From not too far off behind me I could hear the sound of roof tiles clacking together. I prayed that my ears were playing tricks on me and the sounds weren't really getting closer.

And this is the reason why people _don't _eavesdrop; because there's always the risk that instead of finding out far-out, crazy, exciting secrets, they find themselves with a knife in their back.

_Go to the stables. Hide with your horse. _

Yeah, that's a great idea. Sebastian the horse will save me from the murderous, blood-thirsty, weapon-wielding, bona fide assassin, the White Hood, Ezio Auditore, I thought sarcastically.

I sprinted for my life out of the gates of Monty and straight into the stables. There, I spent several short, panicked moments trying to find the stupid brown horse that somehow had developed the ability to blend in with the shadows. I passed Sebby about several times before he walked up behind me, shoved his face into my hair and let out a loud, seemingly amused snort, scaring the shit out of me.

I heard the sound of boots pounding hard on the dirt ground and quickly dived into Sebby's space in the stable, which wasn't very big, mind you. And then he decided to join me, completely oblivious to the fact that I was about to _die_. I stayed as quiet as I could, crouched in the back corner of the stable, my boots covered in horse manure and my lungs fighting to take in something that wasn't Sebby's horse-breath. His warm breath fanned across my face and through my hair and I had to keep pushing his face away as he nudged me with his nose and tried to lick and sniff at whatever part of my body he could.

"Christ, forget big scary horse. You're nothing but an over-sized puppy!" I breathed affectionately, holding my breath as I caught a glimpse of my pursuers through the gap between his long legs. The White Hood and Mario stopped right in front of Sebby's stall. Of course. They grumbled to each other, paced around a bit, and then at last headed back into Monty. But not before I heard Mario yelling something about the White Hood being a fool, that Federico has a straighter mind than his even with his injury… and then something about Spain. I don't know. I was distracted by Sebby's nose being shoved into my face.

I waited a good five minutes after they left before I left the stall, having to make Sebby walk his fat arse out as well so that I'd actually have enough room to leave. I looked around warily for any sign that the White Hood and his uncle were messing with me and were actually lying in wait for me to reveal myself before flying out of the shadows and chopping me to bits. But alas, it seemed I was safe. Until they got back to the house and saw that I wasn't in my bed and my boots were missing and I showed up a bit later covered in sweat and muck and smelling of horses. Well, more so than before. Yeah, that'd be _such_ a coincidence.

I rolled my eyes and sighed heavily. "This never would've happened if I had just stayed in bed," I grumbled, scraping my boots on a rock, trying to get some of the manure and straw off of them.

_If you had stayed in bed you would not have found out what you did._

"Okay, so they're assassins. They're in a centuries old war with the Templars. What's this got to do with me?" I rubbed at my eyes.

_Everything._

"Helpful." I sighed heavily. "Alright then, mysterious voice in my head, what do I do now?"

And… there was silence.

Great.

My gaze landed on a trough of slightly dirty water, probably for the horses to drink. I walked over to it, a plan slowly growing in my head. I grabbed an old rag that was just hanging on a crooked nail in the side of the stable and balanced myself on one foot beside the trough as I began cleaning the crap from my boots while I thought. I heard a sudden, familiar clucking and I lifted my head to see a lone chicken stop, look at me for a second and then continue on its way, pecking continuously at the ground as it went. Light bulb!

I waited in the stables with Sebby until just after the sun had peeked across the horizon, and then I moved. It turns out the rest of Monty decided to come out of their houses at the exact same time. Perfect. As I melded into the crowd I noticed that more than half of the townspeople were headed to the pub, or tavern I supposed it was called here. "Drinking in the morning, drinking at night. What do they do in between?" I mumbled to myself, shaking my head in wonder. The rest were knocking on doors and opening their shops and calling to each other over and over again; _Buon giorno! Buon giorno!_

It was much different to the mornings in Florence, mostly I think because there were no guards walking around, causing awkward and tense silences as they passed down the street. It was much more relaxed here; there were many people smiling and shouting. And drinking, of course.

It took a bit of searching but I finally found what I was looking for; the chicken pen. I slipped from the crowd and walked hesitantly over to join the small group of older women gathering there, all holding small, round, woven baskets, no doubt ready to collect some eggs from the not so friendly looking chickens. The women, I thought as I watched them standing in their group chattering loudly to one another, reminded me of chickens themselves. I hesitated for a moment before taking in a deep breath, throwing back my shoulders and stepping forward. "Excuse me?" I boldly tapped a large lady wearing a long dress and a head scarf on the shoulder. She turned around to face me, and the others did the same. My resolve faltered slightly as they looked me up and down.

I put a pleasant smile on my face as I met her eyes, which were a good ten centimetres below mine. "_Buon giorno_, young _ragazza_. What can I do for you?" The lady smiled up at me with dark brown eyes, rimmed with crow feet and wrinkles but shining with life.

"I was wondering if I could help collect some eggs. I've seen it done, but I would like try for myself. If that's alright," I added on the end.

What a load of bulldust. I'd been around chicken pens since before I could walk. My nanna had her own little farm going on in her massive back yard; chickens, goats, sheep, rabbits, turkeys, whatever she could get.

But just because I'd been around them all my life, it didn't mean I particularly _liked_ them. And so occurred today's second disaster. The women had looked at me oddly for a moment, before shrugging and handing me a basket and putting me to work.

The first part was easy. I moved to the various empty nests and picked up the eggs and placed them carefully into my basket, making sure not to break any. But then we came to a point where there were no more eggs in the empty nests. I looked to the lady next to me as to what to do next. She just smiled encouragingly and said, "Watch."

I watched the ladies as they slid their hands beneath the roosting chickens, felt around a bit and then magically brought out a couple of eggs before plopping them into their baskets. They made it look so damn easy. But of course, it wasn't. I moved to a chicken who was sitting there sleeping calmly. I gingerly slid my hand beneath it, moved my hand around a bit and then I must've touched something that it didn't like me touching because the damn thing's eyes flew wide open and it totally flipped out. It started screeching and beating its wings and all of the sudden I was under attack.

I dropped my basket full of eggs and let out a short shriek of shock, bringing my arms up instinctively to shield my face as this chicken went bat shit crazy on me. Its claws scratched at my clothed arms, and dug through my hair, scratching my scalp. All I could see through the gap between my arms was a flurry of feathers and all I could hear was the beating of its wings and its loud, angry squawking. I stumbled backward into one of the ladies and was surprised when she took me into a protective embrace and began shooing angrily at the angry bird. Almost immediately, the chicken stopped with its squawking and I heard it run off, clucking angrily.

I lifted my head warily to the sounds of loud laughter. I pulled away from the lady who was still embracing me to look around at the crowd of townspeople who had gathered to watch the new girl get attacked by a crazed chicken. They, along with the women I was supposed to be helping, were all laughing uproariously at me. And once the terror and fear of being killed by a chicken began to fade away, I pissed myself laughing too.

I apologised about a thousand times for the broken eggs I had dropped but the ladies all waved it off with a friendly smile and fond sparkles in their eyes. They laughed and told me, basically, that I sucked royally at egg collecting. As if I didn't already know. I thanked them and apologised again before bidding them a farewell and making my way through the town. They all waved and called happy and thoroughly amused goodbyes.

I walked up the massive stairs to Mario's place, laughing to myself and shaking my head. I grinned happily. I now had my excuse for why I was out, and witnesses to state they saw me. Gods, the whole town had seen me. I chuckled as I walked up to the front door, slowly down slightly and looking down as I scraped chicken crap and hay from the bottom of my boots before I stepped inside, thinking that maybe all of this wouldn't be so bad after all. As long as I didn't get murdered by any assassins, that is.


	12. Chapter 11 (2014)

Claudia met me at the top of the stairs and we smiled at one another. I noticed the bags beneath her eyes and wondered how she was holding up. She looked me over and before she could voice the question I could see burning in her eyes, I told her, "I woke up early this morning and had a little walk around town. I saw some women collecting eggs and I thought I should help them out."

Her eyebrows rose and she laughed, "Well, that explains the feathers." I grinned sheepishly and reached up to pluck out a feather from my messy hair. Claudia shook her head at me, giggling softly. She took my hand leading me up the stairs toward the bathroom, which was significantly more extravagant than Leo's.

"I had it filled for you, ready for when you woke up," she told me as she opened the door and stepped back.

I blinked and then smiled at her, "That was very thoughtful of you. Thanks, Claudia."

She gave me a small smile in return and nodded, leaving me to relax in the silky and perfumed waters. Once it had cooled, I emerged and slipped into a white chemise, a beautiful close-fitting scarlet underdress and a looser, flowing black overdress over it. The sleeves of the underdress tied in at my forearm and left a wide, unusual opening at my elbow, revealing the white of the chemise underneath. The overdress was open at the front, held together at the waist by a red ribbon-like belt and then flowed down in two parts to reveal the striking red beneath. I fingered the golden trim and adjusted the strange diamond holes in the overdress cut for my arms. It was heavy and I was in no way used to the feel of any of the articles of clothing upon my person but I supposed I didn't look too bad in it. I slipped on a pair of light, black slippers and left the room.

I wandered for a while, taking in the empty walls, the cobwebs and spiders and dust and dark, eerie corners. The spacious main hall served as the entrance, and lead to the other rooms of the ground floor including a large armoury, a study which I supposed doubled as a workshop, where I had snuck out earlier this morning. The large marble staircase in the centre of the hall lead to the second floor, and a giant, dusty, broken chandelier hung above it. There were several doors on the second floor, leading to the rooms Claudia, Federico, Petruccio and Maria inhabited, though I supposed that Petruccio was sharing with his mother. Then there was the bathroom, a mostly empty painting gallery and my own room. Through a door beside the stairs on the lower level, I recognised the door to Mario's study, where I supposed there lead another door to his own bedroom. I also discovered a small hallway which lead out to the decrepit backyard, and then most welcomely, I came across a large, dusty kitchen littered with dirty and broken plates and bowls and cups. A grit-covered window let in yellowed streams of light and reflected upon the heavy layer of dust in the air.

"Busy exploring, are you?"

I smiled widely at Claudia and Petruccio who sat at a long table for at least twelve people, made of a rich, dark wood. They had cleaned a section of the table, and laid out three plates filled with several different fruits. "This house is beautiful." I commented as I took an offered seat.

Petruccio scrunched up his nose and coughed, "It's all dirty."

Claudia smiled sympathetically at her little brother, "Petruccio has a condition," she told me, "He has occasional bouts of weakness and severe coughing fits. He has spent most of his life ill in bed. He has seemed better lately but we must watch him well. All this dirt and dust isn't good for him."

I frowned in concern, "It's not good for anyone. How could Mario let it get this bad?"

Claudia rolled her eyes, "What else? He is a man."

I chuckled at that, reached over to rub Petruccio's shoulder sympathetically and then started to eat.

"I was woken this morning by Ezio and Federico arguing," Claudia spoke sometime later as she played with her fruit. Petruccio and I looked to her, interrupted in our battle to steal each other's food, "Ezio wants us all to go on to Spain, but Federico insists we stay." Petruccio glanced at me worriedly as Claudia sighed heavily, putting down her fork, "I don't want to leave _Italia. _This is our home. We cannot just run away."

I frowned, "Federico is the eldest. Doesn't Ezio have to listen to him now?"

"Yes, but…" she let out a loud breath and shook her head. "I just don't know."

"It will be alright, Claudia." Petruccio smiled at her. I smiled in agreement, nodding.

"Do you think?" She looked to me worriedly while she reached out and squeezed her youngest brother's hand.

I shot her an assuring grin, "I really do."

After a moment, her stiff shoulders relaxed and she smiled at us both. We washed and dried our plates and placed them back on the table, which proved to be the only remotely clean spot in the entire room. Claudia and I considered beginning to clean it, but in the end I convinced her we deserved a day of relaxation. Soon after, I was forced to give in to her insistences that I allow her to properly put up my hair and she spent almost half an hour pulling my dark hair back into a strange almost bag of material which I learned was called a caul, and then curling the loose bangs around my face.

"I am afraid for us, Marietta," she said quietly as she worked, her slender fingers gliding skilfully through my freshly washed locks. "I am afraid for Federico and for Petruccio. I am afraid for my mother. I am afraid for Ezio. I am afraid that I will never see our home or my friends again. I am just so afraid."

"You have every right to be," I murmured. "What has happened to this family is something that you may never return from. Things will probably never be the same as they were. All you can do is try to accept it and keep moving forward."

She was quiet for a moment, "You know, I do not think you are Marietta. It is impossible that you are. Yet it is impossible for you to be anyone else."

I made a sound of amusement, "Would it be weird if I said I have been thinking the exact same thing?"

As neither of us had an answer to this and we didn't dare question it further for fear that we proved ourselves mad, we fell into silence. I had never gotten around to asking Leo about Marietta Sanfilippo; who she was, why everyone thought I was she… and now I had missed that chance. I didn't know or trust Claudia enough to tell her everything I told Leo because I had no idea how she would react. So I kept my mouth shut and wondered silently what she was thinking.

We decided to spend the day exploring the town, which didn't end up taking very long as much of it consisted of either people's houses, or empty, boarded-up shops. We steered clear of the tavern. It seemed that this, as well as the vast farms and vineyards just outside the city walls, were the city's only sources of income. Growing quickly bored and sick of the intense stench from the poor city, we wandered beyond the walls, looking carefully around for any of the male Auditores who would surely not be happy to catch us doing so. However, Ezio, Federico and Mario seemed to have disappeared completely.

We spent several hours checking on our horses in the stables, and then wandering from farm to farm patting cows and baaing at the sheep. The wind blew gently on our skin, the sun shone brightly in the sky and everyone we met was happy to see us. I waved and smiled at several people who recognised me from the chicken incident and Claudia looked at me strangely. I told her and Petruccio the story and they burst out laughing while I pouted and showed them my battle scars. We returned to the house for lunch, and were surprised to find that there was still no one home. We returned to the kitchen and Claudia prepared a small meal for us while I began to clean out a few cupboards, filling an empty crate with broken things and making a pile of dirty things in the large, deep sink with a large, levered tap, to clean later. Petruccio disappeared into the backyard for several minutes before returning with a small vase filled with small blue flowers. He grinned hugely at me as he placed it carefully on the table.

After lunch, we moved into the workshop where Claudia and Petruccio played chess in front of the window which was wide open to let in the cool breeze which was needed as the afternoon sun heated the air. I spent a while watching them play, and then studying the scale model of Monty, and then browsing the books, which proved to be mostly economics, law and a lot of Latin.

_Go outside_, the voice startled me so badly that I dropped the book I was skimming through. I quickly picked it up and put it back, smiling apologetically at Claudia and the kid who went back to their game.

_Jessica, _the voice urged.

"I'm going, I'm going. Relax. Jeez." I rolled my eyes and moved to the front door. It opened the same moment I reached out to take the door handle and I had a moment of awkwardness as I stepped out of its way as someone pushed through. Dark brown, shaggy hair, broad shoulders, a high, white collar, red tunic… "Hello, Federico."

"Marietta, _buon pomeriggio_," Federico's eyes settled upon me and a wide, happy smile appeared on his tired face. "May I say, you look exceptionally beautiful today."

I blushed, "Thank you. How are you?" I asked glancing down at his leg.

His eyes sparkled at me. "Good, thank you. My leg is healing, albeit slowly. Were you heading outside?" He stepped to the side and gallantly offered an arm when I nodded. I took it and we walked over to the stone wall to lean against it. I looked out over the town, ignoring Federico's eyes on my face. We stood there beneath the warm afternoon sun in silence. My attention was suddenly drawn by the sound of metal on metal and I looked down to the left to see Ezio in nothing but a loose white shirt and tight dark pants facing against a man in leather armor within the sparring area. Mario was standing on the outside, his arms crossed over his protruding belly, watching.

I brushed passed Federico to stand on the opposite side of him and leaned on the wall to get a better look. "What's going on?" This must be what the voice wanted me to see.

"_Zio_ Mario and I have decided that my brother should learn to properly fight considering our current situation." He shifted his stance so that he was leaning toward me. I ignored this. I ran my eyes over Ezio's sweaty face and the large amount of bronze chest that I could see thanks to the low-cut of the white linen shirt he was wearing in appreciation. I counted myself lucky to be surrounded by not one, but two attractive people. Three, if I wanted to count Claudia whom I had caught myself staring at more than once in the shining sunlight today.

"Claudia told me that Ezio would like to move onto Spain soon. She said that you disagree," I distracted myself, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. Federico's eyes darkened slightly and became serious.

"_Si_. My brother has it in his mind that we need to flee. He is wrong. We are safe as long as we are here. There are many people who will help us." He smiled down at me, and raised a hand to my chin. His eyes softened. "Don't you worry about a thing, _mio caro. _I will not let any harm come to you," he murmured. I smiled at him and nodded, holding my breath as his hand left my chin. He took a deep breath then, "My uncle says that there is a convent nearby which is in much better shape than his castle. I agree that his home is not a place for women of any quality. Not with so many mercenaries about and no one to care for you. We will be away often and will not be around should you need us. I believe it would be best if you and Claudia took my mother and Petruccio there."

I turned fully around to stare at him in disbelief, knowing that if he had told this to Claudia, whose temper was remarkably short, he would most likely have had his head bitten off. "No," I said simply, resisting the strong urge to yell and swear and hit him. "We will be perfectly fine here, thank you very much."

"Marietta—"

"That's the end of it, Federico. I don't want to hear any more about it." I turned away sharply and stared violently into the distance, signaling that this conversation was over. Federico hesitated for a moment, and then surprised me with a chuckle. He moved and pecked me quickly on the cheek, "Alright, _tesora,_" he whispered and then wandered inside. I let out a huge, angry sigh and leaned heavily on the stone wall. I knew how women were thought of in the 15th Century, but I would not be putting up with any such nonsense, consequence be damned.

I wandered down the stairs to the practice ring and moved to stand near Mario, who was shouting at Ezio to concentrate and to stop being such a baby. Now closer, I could see the thick layer of sweat, dirt and blood on Ezio's body, and the angry bruises on his face, arms and chest. I frowned and clenched my jaw but understood. He was training. A bit of blood and a few bruises were a worthy price to pay if it meant learning how to stay alive against real enemies who were wholeheartedly trying to kill you. I was just glad I wasn't the one doing it. I didn't have much confidence that I wouldn't just collapse into a frightened ball and cry.

"_Buon giorno, Signorina. _I trust you are well?" Mario grinned down at me.

I smiled at him and nodded, "_Buon giorno, signore. _I am well, thank you."

He turned to watch Ezio, "That is good. I hear you went exploring earlier. How did you find this little town of mine?"

"It's…lovely," I frowned, "How did you know we went exploring?"

"My men told me, of course. You didn't think we would leave you alone without anyone to watch over you, did you?" he chuckled.

I raised an eyebrow, not sure how much I appreciated this, "You've got spies watching us?"

He smiled at me, "For your own protection. That is all."

I pursed my lips, unhappy, and jumped in surprise when Mario shouted loudly next to me, correcting Ezio once more. Mario turned back to me and laughed, "What can I help you with?"

I shrugged and watched Ezio miss the mercenary badly. "Nothing really. I just wanted to watch for a while."

"It's not much to watch," Mario grumbled, and then leaned in to whisper loudly with a sparkle in his good eye, "He is not very good."

"Hey!"

Mario and I laughed as Ezio turned angrily to face us, and was consequently knocked to the ground by the mercenary. He groaned as he slowly got back to his feet and returned his attention to the fight. Mario laughed. "Perhaps I can tell you a little about my castle," he offered, "if you would like to listen?"

I nodded, interested.

He smiled in approval and began, "It was originally built in the year 1290 but didn't come into the possession of our family until Domenico Auditore purchased it in 1321. He turned the villa into his home and had built in it many secret compartments and rooms," he told me with a secretive smile, "and deep beneath the ground, he constructed the great Auditore family crypt. Myself and my dear brother Giovanni, God rest his soul, were born here. Once our father died, Giovanni left to live in Florence and I became the sole ruler of Monteriggioni. I have lived here all of my life and I love it dearly, but as you see…" he gestured at the dull, grey and dirty castle before us, "I have little time or money to keep both my castle and my town well-kept. It is a dark, dirty and ancient place, but I believe that it may be returned to its former glory once more."

"I would very much like to see that," I smiled at him.

"As would I."

"Marietta," I turned to see Ezio walking over, sword drawn and arms and legs trembling slightly with fatigue and adrenaline, "Will you be coming with us to Spain, then?" he asked, leaning his sword against the wooden barrier and taking the bowl of water Mario offered him.

"Um…" I began awkwardly.

"Spain? Are you still talking of moving on to Spain?" Mario's voice boomed, sounding annoyed, "I thought your brother had brought you here to train."

Ezio frowned, wiping a large hand over his sweaty face, "No, Uncle. My intention is to take my family further still."

Mario frowned gravely, "But what about your father? His work as a you-know-what?"

"He—" Ezio stopped, glancing briefly to me in frustration, "What he was does not concern me. I only wish to keep my family safe."

"Doesn't concern you?!" Mario shouted suddenly in anger and then stopped himself. "Listen, Ezio, you were barely able to hold your own against Vieri. If I hadn't arrived when I did… Leave if you must but first learn the skills and knowledge you will need to defend yourself or you won't last a week on the road. If not for me, do it for the sake of your mother and sister and little Petruccio."

Ezio thought long and hard in silence, and then sighed, admitting his uncle made a good argument, "Alright. I'll stay."

Mario beamed and leaned over to clap him hard on the shoulder, "Good man! You'll live to thank me yet!"

Ezio shook his head at me with a small smile and I laughed shortly. Mario moved away to talk to his mercenary and I was left alone with the White Hood. I eyed his bruised chest and bloody knuckles. "You are going to be very sore tomorrow," I cringed sympathetically.

He winced, "I am sore now."

"I bet," I paused for a moment, "How are you, Ezio?"

"I am fine," he replied automatically. I said nothing, only waited for the few moments he stood silent and refused to meet my eyes. At last he sighed, "I… I am not fine. I am everything but fine. We have lost everything. My family is broken and confused. Federico's leg may never fully recover. My mother refuses to speak. And my father…" his voice, which had been steadily rising in volume cracked and fell to a strangled whisper, "My father…" He hung his head. The cool wind blew. I placed a comforting hand on his hot, sweaty shoulder. He reached up and covered it with his own, raising his head to look deeply and painfully into my eyes. There were so many questions, so much pain and doubt and rage. He removed my hand from his shoulder but held it tight in his own, staring emotionally down at me.

This was not a romantic moment. This was a moment between two human beings who understood each other's pain. Who had gone through the same horrific experiences and who were somehow still here. This was one of those moments that you couldn't possibly explain in words. In this moment, no words were needed. We simply understood one another, and in that instance, I created a bond with Ezio Auditore, the White Hood. This man who was not falling over backwards to try and prove that he cared for me and that he wanted to and could protect me as Federico had done, nor who knew more about me than literally anyone in this world and who accepted and believed in me as wholly and truthfully as Leonardo had done. Ezio was just another human being who could see himself in me just as I could see myself in him. This is what made this bond so uniquely special.

I cursed in that moment that I was masquerading as Marietta Sanfilippo, whose parents were most likely still alive somewhere. I couldn't sit down with this sad, broken and grieving man and explain to him how much I understood what he was going through. I couldn't explain to him that I knew how it felt and I knew how hard it would be and forever would be to think of your father as the man who_ should _be in your life, but who cruelly and unfairly was not. I could simply stand and hold his hand and hope that men in this age had enough common sense to talk to their family as they grieved, and not needlessly force everyone to go through this alone. I, myself, could not possibly imagine what I would have done if I didn't have my sister Jasmin and my mother there to support me after my dad died. When we cried, we cried together. When we were angry, we screamed at each other. Then at last, when we finally accepted it, we sat together and laughed as we remembered him.

"It will get easier," was all I could offer him.

"Ezio!" We were startled out of our trance at the sound of Mario's booming voice, "I need to talk to you once you are cleaned up. Find me in my study."

"Yes, Uncle." Ezio very slowly released my hand. I smiled at him in a friendly manner and walked back up the stairs to the castle.


	13. Chapter 12 (2014)

Months passed slowly. Claudia, Petruccio and I spent weeks cleaning and repairing windows, dusting the drapes, airing out rugs and wiping down and dusting every surface and making a list of everything which needed specialist repairs or which needed to be replaced. We mopped the floors, polished the silverware, sorted and properly filed away loose pages, arranged the books and filled every empty vase with large bouquets of wildflowers. By the time we were well into summer, the interior of the house, aside from a few dents and ditches in the walls, was impeccable and we were quite proud of our accomplishments. The air was clean and fresh, and the rooms were filled with light and life. Claudia and I had become quite close during this time, and had shared many laughs and experiences together. I considered her a good friend and I believe she did also.

During this extended period of time, Federico discovered that although his leg had healed outwardly, it could never return to how it was before the injury. It pulled and ached and needed to be rested often. Mario offered to buy him a cane, but the proud Federico refused vehemently. I could see how it pained him to know that he could no longer run and jump and climb as his brother did. Instead, Federico began to focus on the training of his mind. He sat for hours in the workshop reading the books and pages there. Sometimes I would have him read to me, which he always did happily. He began to tutor his youngest brother, Petruccio, wanting to ensure he was as educated as himself and Ezio.

Ezio, meanwhile, had become increasingly skilled and strong as he trained under Mario's watchful eye. Beginning at dawn, Ezio would be in the practice area, sparring with a mercenary, or else jumping lithely from rooftop to rooftop, gaining his strength, balance and precision. Mario would have him run the road outside the great walls around the town for hours and hours and then kick and hit at a dummy filled with straw for hours more. He trained with short and long swords, daggers and halberds and throwing knives and then with no weapon at all. His training would end well after night had fallen and he would stumble upstairs to bathe off the blood and sweat of the day before shuffling up the stairs to his room he had made in attic, where he would find a large plate filled with his dinner and a jug of wine. I didn't know if he knew it was I who left it for him without fail every night, for he never mentioned it to anyone. I didn't need him to. I was just glad to do what little I could to help. Mario was really putting him through hell.

I, myself had grown soft around the edges during my time here. The food was healthier than anything I had eaten back home, but the sedentary lifestyle was working against me. I had very little to do during my days, aside from read and write and draw things in my journal which Claudia had supplied for me. Within it, I wrote my thoughts and feelings and kept note of everything which had happened. As a result of the depth and honesty I had poured out within its pages, I made sure to keep it close to my person at all times, lest someone discover it and start asking questions. Mario had allowed me to exchange letters with Leo every week, and though we had little to tell each other, the letters proved to be the highlight of my time there and I cherished every one.

I had not heard from the voice in my head for over two months now, however I did not feel free from it in the least. It was there. In the back of my mind. Watching and waiting. A foreign presence within my thoughts, aware of each and every happening both in my head and in the world around me. This presence didn't frighten me, however, and after some time it didn't even annoy me. I merely adapted to it. It became a norm and I began to forget what my mind felt like before it had settled there.

I spent many quiet hours grieving for my old life, for my friends and my family, and I wondered if they knew I had gone. I missed my mum's hugs and my sister's voice and my little brother, Tommy's excited, round face. God, I missed Tommy. I hoped they were all okay. I also spent quite a lot of time riding Sebastian, walking or working on the garden in the backyard with Claudia. It was a peaceful, quiet time and we remarked to each other that sometimes it felt as if nothing terrible had happened at all.

However, there were times, many times in fact, where hours of my day were spent comforting a grieving Petruccio or a furiously emotional Claudia. Many nights I would be awoken by the young boy with tears streaking down his face and his small frame shaking with sobs, climbing into my bed to hold me tight, have my arms wrapped around him and hide from the world within my embrace. I would follow the strangled screams and sound of violent destruction and find Claudia moving like a tornado upturning chairs and throwing books and sending weapon stands crashing to the ground. She would shout and scream at me for not saving her father, and then she would throw herself at Federico and hit him across the face for bringing this upon their family. Finally, she would fling herself into a corner, curl up and sob there and I would command Federico to go to her and comfort her. In the end, he would do so, and I would leave the siblings there to cry their grief together.

As the months passed, the three Auditore children slowly began to come to terms with their father's death, with the support of each other. I had strong concerns, however, for both their mother, Maria, whom I had literally not seen since the day we arrived and who, according to Claudia and Petruccio, barely ate or spoke a word, and also for Ezio. None of us had spoken to him so we had no idea how he was coping with everything. I asked Federico to talk to him, and he tried, but Ezio refused to talk about it. He had shut everyone out, just as his mother had. There was nothing any of us could do for him until he someday would decide to let us in.

I sat on a warm evening in the painting gallery upstairs, roughly sketching the images of various characters from television shows I sorely missed when I heard the sound of raised, angry, male voices echoing throughout the villa. I heard only the words 'Spain', 'disappointed' and 'idiot' before the conversation was cut short by a loud slamming of a heavy door. I emerged onto the second story landing, wide eyed and curious as I gazed around the main hall. I hurried over to a window which looked to the front of the house and saw Mario marching angrily down the stairs to the town, waving his hands and shaking his head. The echoing sound of a door latch opening reached my ears and I watched as Federico stormed out of the workshop, looking as aggravated as his uncle. I admired how little his leg hindered his movement, as painful as I knew it was. He disappeared in the direction of the kitchens at the moment Ezio proved the final one to emerge.

The youngest man looked more exhausted than angry, but his frustration showed in the set of his jaw and the rigidness of his shoulders. He shut the door carefully behind him and then wandered slowly out to stand in the centre of the main hall, putting his hands on his hips and sighing before raising his head to stare up at me.

I waved sheepishly and he returned it with a small, tired smile. "Hello, Marietta."

"Hey Ezio," I greeted, noting that this was the first time we had directly spoken in months, "Are you okay?"

He nodded, "I am… better, thank you." He let out a heavy breath, "Tell me, do you believe we should continue on to Spain, or stay and live here, as my brother and uncle wish?"

I leant my forearms against the railing and let out a breath as I thought, "Honestly?" He nodded. "I think we should stay here. Everyone is settled. Claudia and Petruccio are happy here. Federico seems to be as well. We've been here for months and no one has come to find us so I'm assuming we're pretty much safe. We've got food, water, beds and clothes. We've got things to keep us entertained and the people in town are good and kind. I don't really see any good reason to leave," I finished with a shrug.

He sighed in response and frowned at me as if I had said the exact opposite of what he wanted to hear. I smiled apologetically. His shoulders slumped forward, his head lowered and in that moment, he was, in my eyes, a young boy who had seen and heard and experienced far too much for his little heart to handle. He had isolated and alienated himself from his family and as a result had left himself small and vulnerable and alone. I held so much sympathy for him that I could not contain myself from hurrying across the landing and down the staircase.

Ezio turned to face me, his head still lowered. I wanted to know what he was feeling; I wanted him to be willing to tell me what he was feeling. Patience was key. I stood before him and placed a comforting hand on his firm, warm shoulder. "You want to go for a walk?"

He looked up at me from beneath his brow with sad amber eyes, "A walk?"

"Yeah. A nice, relaxing walk by the vineyards." I smiled. "No family. No yelling. Just a walk," I promised. To distract you. To make you forget all of this for just a moment. To make you happy, if only for a fleeting moment.

"Alright," he conceded, cracking a small but dashing smile which made me smile in return. I watched as he pushed away the sadness and apprehension and confusion and forced himself to relax, lowering his shoulders and taking a deep breath as he began to follow me.

I insisted on staying silent as we snuck into the kitchen and packed a small basket with bread, cheese, grapes and wine beneath a thin blanket. Bumping into the doorway, I giggled as we made our escape out the front door and to the path along the top of the wall. Ezio laughed at me and I hushed him wildly as we hunched over and ducked from cover to cover to the stone stairs which led down to an alley to the right of the main gates.

"Why are we sneaking?" Ezio's deep voice laughed behind my right shoulder as he followed close behind me, carrying the basket which I had filled with flowers to act as a disguise.

"Shh! Do you want everyone to know we're here?"

"Who is _everyone_?"

"Your family. If any one of them hears our plan, they're going to want to come along."

He chuckled as we reached the stairs and began to descend them. I noted the smooth edges, gouges and cracks in the stone with careful disdain. Monteriggioni really needed to be cleaned, repaired and given a thorough paint job. They could at least get rid of the rats, honestly. I held my breath as we hurried down the alley and I tried my best to ignore the small cat sized rodents which scattered riotously as we passed. I paused at the opening of the darkened alleyway and peeked around the corner.

"Want me all to yourself, do you?"

A tingle ran down my spine and throughout my core at the gravelly tone of his voice, low and sensual by my ear. I blushed but forced myself to shoot a cheeky grin over my shoulder, "You know it." I ran off chuckling and he hurried after me, laughing good-naturedly.

Escaping successfully through the gates, I gawked appreciatively at the rolling green hills and the endless blue sky of Italy. The warm wind ran its fingers through my dark hair and caressed the lines of my jaw and collarbone. Out in the sunlight, beyond the gates of his responsibility, seventeen year old Ezio Auditore's handsome, olive-toned face smoothed, his sharp, shining eyes lightened and his strong, sharply lined body relaxed as he became a young adult once more, and the ten year old boy stepped only into the background, forgotten only for the moment. I skipped along, breaking quickly from the path which circled the high walls of Monteriggioni and moving along the fence line separating public property from private.

We passed several small farmlands, pausing only several times to pat the head of a complacent cow, and then found ourselves in awe of a deep green vineyard which rose majestically from the dirt, its vines laden heavy with grapes ripe for harvest. We passed rows and rows and rows of grape vines as we began to discuss whether or not cows liked to drink wine and which, red or white, was their preference. After some time, I interrupted the conversation to point to a very appealing tree on top of a very attractive small hill upon which I immediately decided we were to have our picnic.

I hurried up it, trying unsuccessfully to mask my unfit panting from the much fitter Ezio, and then took the basket from his arm, carefully removed the flowers, spread the blanket upon the grass and sat down on it, placing the basket beside me. Ezio eased himself to the ground and sat in silence, staring thoughtfully across the vineyard to the farm and the dark green hills and forest beyond. I set up our small picnic, realising with only some frustration that we had forgotten to bring cups for the wine. Silently hoping I didn't get AIDS or something equally as horrific, I moved the now empty basket out of the way, tore off a small chunk of cheese and nibbled at it delicately as I played with one of the wildflowers I had used to disguise the basket. I watched Ezio out of the corner of my eyes.

I was trying my best to look out for him. I made sure he was fed and watered, I made sure none of his injuries were too severe, I made sure that he would have someone to talk to, whenever he finally decided he wanted to talk to someone, and I was always there when he needed someone to just be there. I didn't know what more I could do. Patience was key. But what if patience wasn't enough? What if Ezio ended up repressing his anger and grief and survivor's guilt until it created a horrible, dark hole inside of him that he could never overcome? What if that was something he was doing right now?

"Cheese, Ezio?"

I watched him jump slightly, startled at my unnecessarily loud question. He blinked a moment and then nodded, his face relaxing, "Thank you."

I smiled as he began to dig in, and I hurriedly followed suit after seeing just how much the man was piling onto his plate. As we ate, I talked at him until he started to talk back. We discussed grapes and trees and the sky and cheese and how cows think and feel and rats and Monteriggioni and things we could do to fix it up and how much money it would cost and then we discussed taverns and alcohol and religion and how amazing the wine we were drinking tasted and whether it was made from this same vineyard and whether grapes had family. My original plan of talking his ear off to confuse him enough to get his mind off of reality was thrown out the window as the wine went down and we got into a passionate philosophical discussion concerning fruit, emotion and what it meant to be alive.

The sun sank ever lower in the sky and I could sense the effort on both our parts to try and ignore the oncoming dark and the end of our surprisingly enjoyable picnic. Our conversation slowing as we became distracted by the increasingly visible stars, I felt incredibly content as I sat, shoulder to shoulder with the White Hood, Ezio Auditore. In this moment of deep, purely platonic friendship, I felt more at home than I had in months.

And then, that moment passed, and something in my mind shifted, and my left palm burned. My stomach dropped. Ezio's hand slid over mine. Horses screamed in the distance. The ball started rolling. The voice was back.

_It is time._


	14. Chapter 13 (2015)

**This is the earliest version I could find of these chapters - here we switch from First person to Third. **

/

Jessica was woken the next morning by Petruccio shaking her urgently, his brown eyes filled with concern. "What is it, kid?"

He said nothing, but the feral screaming which filled the room was answer enough. She scrambled out of bed and rushed to balcony overlooking the main hall. There she found Claudia and Federico locked in a heated match. They were shouting in fast Italian and she couldn't understand a word between them. Jessica looked to Petruccio in frustration. "What's going on?"

"Ezio and Uncle Mario had a fight this morning. I heard Uncle Mario shouting, and then he left and Ezio followed him. They didn't come back."

"What was Mario shouting about?"

"H-heritage? I think that's what he said."

This didn't help answer her questions but she smiled at Petruccio comfortingly and hurried back into her room to change into her usual dress. Barefoot and hair in disarray, she told Petruccio to go play in his room and he did so eagerly, gently closing the door behind him. Jessica descended the staircase and faced off the quarrelling siblings.

"What's going on?" she demanded, and the shouting stopped. Federico stood with a glower on his face as Claudia sneered at him.

"Why not ask my dear brother? He is after all the one keeping all of the secrets from we, his family."

Federico growled, "What is going on does not concern you, Claudia."

"How can you say that? It concerns all of us. What is going on is that we have lost our lives, our friends and our home. What is going on is that Father is dead. And now Uncle Mario and Ezio are missing and you will not tell me where they are!"

Federico faltered and flinched at her tone. After a long moment of staring solemnly at the ground the man sighed, "Ezio has gone with our uncle to San Gimignano to fight the Pazzi. Vieri has been harassing Uncle's forces since our arrival. He has gone to put a stop to it."

"Is he going to kill him?" Jessica demanded.

Federico said nothing, but his eyes answered her question. Her stomach rolled and her face distorted in disgust. Assassins. They were assassins. Murderers.

The world seeming suddenly a lot less tolerable, she wandered away from them to the kitchen where she busied herself preparing breakfast. Don't think about it.

* * *

The men returned late that night, laughing and drinking and shouting. From the window of the workshop, Jessica clenched her jaw and glared. Their clothes were red with the blood of men, none more so than Ezio Auditore.

The linen of his robes once white, was now a dark rust colour. He himself looked relatively unscathed but for a thick bandage around his left hand which was spotted with blood. She found herself shaking. How could they look so happy? So pleased with themselves?

Claudia came to stand by her side as Federico and Petruccio ended their mathematics lesson and rushed excitedly out the door, clearly eager to join their male kin in their celebrations. "Oh, what a relief. Thank God they came back safe. And victorious as well, it seems!" Claudia laughed.

Jessica stared at the woman as if she didn't know her and left the room, feeling angry and sick. This was not okay. This was not a victory. She heard Ezio call out happily to her as she stormed up the stairs to her room but she did not stop. Jessica slammed the door on their confused voices and leaned against it, her heart fluttering and tears in her eyes.

Blood. There was so much blood.

This was so far out of her comfort zone that it wasn't funny. The food and the hygiene and the clothes she could take. The lack of technology and pads and hair-ties and bras. She could handle all of these things. But the glorification of battle? Of war? Of the taking of lives? That was all good and well in games and movies, but real life was different. People had died, horribly and painfully. And Ezio was the one who had done it. He had killed.

_And he will kill many more._

Oh god. How could she think of becoming his friend? How could she have become so preoccupied with taking care of him? She had been encouraging of his lessons in fighting and agility so that he would have the means to defend himself and the ones he loved, not to use them to end the lives of people with families and lives of their own. How could anyone be morally okay with that?

Jessica spent several anxious minutes waiting to shout at whoever came to the door to leave her be, but there were no knocks. She took a long, deep breath and locked the door before she moved to the entrance to the secret tunnel to Mario's study.

"...powerful men in all of Europe and Master of the Templar Order."

"Which makes him responsible for the murder of our father."

"Yes, and he will not have forgotten you. He will not have taken kindly to our siege upon San Gimignano, nor to your part in capturing it. He will have you killed the moment he gets the chance."

"Then I must stand against him if we wish to be free..."

"And what of Marietta? Her action in saving myself and my brother was surely unforgettable. Do you suppose that she too is in danger?"

"Of that I cannot be certain. But she is safe here, _nipote_. Now, look," From her position, she could not see what it was the three men were gazing at, "I have added the names you told me of in San Gimignano. It is time for you to begin your work."

"Every Templar named shall fall to my blade." She frowned and shivered at the darkness in Ezio's tone.

"Begin with Francesco de Pazzi," Federico suggested, "He should share the fate of his son."

"Si. And he shall. I will make for Florence."

"A sensible next step. No doubt he intends evil for the city," Mario agreed. "But first, recognise these?"

Jessica shrank into the darkness around her as the men turned to face in her direction, their attention set on something on the wall beneath her. "Other codex pages."

"Yes, our father managed to decode these before he..." Federico trailed off.

"And here is the one Giovanni left you, which your clever friend managed to decode."

"Leonardo da Vinci."

"The painter?" Federico asked in amazement.

"Si. The same man Marietta continues to write to regularly," Ezio jeered. Federico make a low sound of displeasure.

"Enough, you two. Look. Do you see how the words cross from one page to the next and how the symbols join?"

"There is something underneath it. Some kind of map. Where is it supposed to lead?"

"Your father and I managed to make out bits of a prophecy scrawled across these pages. It was written by an Assassin like us, who long ago held a 'Piece of Eden'. His name was Altair."

A sudden shot of heat screamed up her arm and she hissed in pain as her palm throbbed and excitement that was not her own filled her mind. Jessica tried to remain silent, pressing her lips together and squeezing her eyes shut. That was intense.

"He spoke of something ancient and powerful hidden beneath the land."

"What is it?"

Another spike of hot agony tore through her muscles and her hand trembled violently. Her eyes streamed with tears of pain and in fear of another bout, she scrambled away down the tunnel.

"What indeed..."

Jessica clambered out of the tunnel and flung the secret door closed, gasping and puffing as her heart pounded in her chest. Her left palm burned. Shakily, she gazed down at the skin and saw that the circle was glowing deeply.

The light seared into her eyes and she pulled her hand into a fist, holding it away from her. The muscles of her arm shook as a terrible ache throbbed through the bone to her shoulder where it spread along her collarbone and across her ribs. The agony extended up her neck to the base of her skull, through her jaw and into the nerve of every tooth. It spread across her cheekbones and delved into the depths of her eye sockets. It encircled her spine and seeped within her pelvis then down her legs. She was sure her bones were splitting; the marrow was leaking into muscle and organs splintered with bone. Her lungs constricted around her heart as her stomach lurched and bile flooded over her tongue. The Voice's presence was loud in her head, like a dark shadow in a brightly lit room, profound and ominous and uninvited.

The world spun and she stumbled to the bed, easing herself onto her back on the soft, rich covers. Behind her closed eyes, images flashed in a nauseating sequence. Two people. Naked. Bathed in silver light. Running toward a building. Her stomach lurched.

_A Piece of Eden._

Golden streams of light. A ball of gold. A map.

"_Stop_!" she cried at last, unable to take anymore.

With a final heave of emotion, the Voice retreated, the visions fell away and the pain in her hand ceased. Exhausted and thoroughly terrified, Jessica curled into a ball and sobbed.


	15. Chapter 14 (2015)

Jessica couldn't believe that she had been here for six months. It had been half a year since she had woken up on that bench in Firenze and met Leo and saved Federico and Petruccio's lives. It had been half a year since she had last seen her family. Half a year since she had last eaten McDonalds or had chocolate milk. She had come to accept the fact that she would not see her time again. She only wished that she had had a chance to say goodbye.

She stood leaning against the banister, overlooking the hall and watched the celebrations. It was Federico's twenty-first birthday and the entire population of Monteriggioni had managed to squeeze themselves within the four walls. Now they were all thoroughly drunk.

Jessica had never liked alcohol or its effects so she abstained and watched in faint amusement as Federico shamelessly threw himself at a rather attractive older woman in a low-cut dress. He had seemed to lose interest in her over these past months, for which she was thankful. He still cared for her, but the affectionate gestures and puppy-dog looks had become far and in between.

She no longer knew what she thought of he and his brother. Petruccio and Claudia were dear friends to her, of that she had no doubt, but she could not bring herself to become close with the older Auditore men. The picnic she shared with the White Hood was the last friendly gesture they had shared and she had not said much to Federico in some time, but this was not without great effort on her part. The men had been confused and undoubtedly hurt by her sudden emotional retreat from them, but she couldn't help it. She was compassionate, and she cared about everyone, including Federico and Ezio… But they were murderers. They had killed so many and planned to do so again. She refused to play a part in this.

A headache pounded behind her eyes as the hall boomed with drunken laughter and she winced, leaning away from the room. Jessica thought distractedly of the last letter she had received from Leo. He had sensed her darkening mood, and her descent into discontent and deep unhappiness. He begged her to return to Firenze. He missed her greatly. She could assist him in his growing popularity and demand of work and in return he would provide for her everything she could desire. She only had to return 'home'.

Lost in her thoughts, she failed to notice Mario appear beside her until he cleared his throat loudly and commanded her attention. "Are you having fun, Marietta?" he asked. She noticed that he was of the appearance of one who was behaving more drunk then they actually were. This was unusual for the man who she had many times helped to stumble to his bed, blind drunk and giggling to himself.

"Oh yeah. Heaps of fun," she answered dryly, watching him in the corner of her eye, waiting for him to speak.

It was a long moment of silence between them as they looked out at the sea of party-goers, she with vague snarl of disgust and Mario with quiet contemplation.

"You are unhappy here."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise but she didn't answer though he left her time to.

"Weeks ago, when we returned from our victory at San Gimignano, you ran to your room and locked the door and refused to come out. Federico and Ezio believed it was the blood which frightened you and it was the fear that made you sick."

Mario was... an enigma, to say the least. He was one of the very few people she had met that she simply could not get a sound reading of. He had so many layers. He never said what she believed he would and though he acted the loud, rowdy drunk, he was more prone to quiet reading in his study and spending hours staring out across the green rolling hills, speckled with farms and vineyards. He was also deceptively observant.

"You did not leave your room for three days and you only allowed Claudia entrance and only to deliver to you your meals. But it was not fear which drove you to your isolation, was it? No. It was anger. Your heart is not weakened by the thought of bloodshed, but hardened. You see us as criminals. As murderers." He sighed at her silence. "God knows the world needs devout pacifists such as yourself, but I need you to understand… Do not hate them for what they have done."

"I don't…"

"I see it in your eyes, Marietta, and so do they. Understand that the things we do are necessary to keep peace. If diplomacy was an option I promise you we would take it, but against the enemy we face, it is not. We must fight for our freedom. We must fight for our loved ones. You do not agree with this, and I respect that. But you must try to respect us, and all we do to keep you safe.

"Those boys care for you deeply and they owe you much. Do not reject them so hastily for things they have done which are out of their control."

Her cheeks burned and she refused to look at him. What was she to say to that? Her heart pounded with shame and guilt, but her mind remained firm. Her jaw clenched and she said nothing to him. After a moment he sighed, squeezed her shoulder and left her. He was only half right. She was angry at them, and she certainly didn't agree with the things they were doing, but she had locked herself away for three days as a result of the traumatizing visions she had suffered. She had been so scared and in so much pain. God, she prayed that never happened to her again. The problem was she still didn't understand exactly why it had happened.

That night, after the guests had stumbled out, vomiting all over themselves and leaving one hell of a mess behind, she packed the few things she owned into a bag and readied herself to leave for Florence.

The next day, she pulled on the pants she had bought so long ago and went downstairs, bag in hand. In the kitchen, she packed a larger bag with fruit and cheese and bread and took a water skin big enough to hold several liters of water.

Then she found Claudia in the workshop, sitting in a square of sunlight which streamed through the window, reading a book. Jessica admired the sixteen year old girl for a moment, observing her cheekbones and dark eyes. The fat of childhood had fallen away and now she was very much a young woman.

Those dark eyes rose from the pages and settled on her, where they widened and Jessica watched as the book fell to the ground with a thud.

"Marietta… What?" Claudia stammered.

A deep breath. "I'm leaving, Claudia."

Claudia shot to her feet with a panicked cry, "What?! Why? Where?"

"I'm going to live with Leonardo da Vinci in Firenze."

Her jaw dropped in astonishment. "Are you betrothed?"

Jessica snorted a laugh, "God, no. I'm to be his assistant is all."

"I don't understand…" Claudia shook her head, tears coming to her eyes as the shock began to wear off, "Why…?"

"I just…" Jessica sighed. "It's been months, Claudia. Months of just sitting around in this house while the men train and fight and kill. It's not the life I want. I did enough lazing around as a child. I want to go out into the world and see things and meet people and explore."

Claudia began to cry. Jessica sighed sadly and wrapped her in a tight hug, only swiftly, before she released her. "It's not forever, I promise." She squeezed Claudia's shoulder comfortingly. "I have to find Petruccio and the others. Come on."

Laying an arm across her shoulders, Jessica led the younger woman out of the house and down to the training ring where Federico and Petruccio sparred with wooden swords. Hearing their sister's cries, they immediately stopped and turned in concern to see what the matter was.

"Claudia. What's wrong?" Petruccio asked, climbing over the low wall to go to her. His hair was short and spiky, the way Jessica had liked to cut it, and he had begun to grow tall and lanky as he entered his teenage years. The sickness which had apparently plagued him as a child had not reared its head, which was curious, as Claudia had told her that it had been very serious. But now his cheeks were aglow with health and the heat of exercise, and his brown eyes wide as he looked over his sister with concern.

Federico froze upon laying eyes on the bags at Jessica's feet, packed and tied neatly. As Petruccio comforted his sister, Jessica found herself in a heated stare with the eldest Auditore.

"Where will you go?" he demanded, sounding angrier than he had right to.

"To Firenze. I will be assistant to Leonardo da Vinci."

"The _painter?" _She nodded, watching his lips tighten and his jaw clench. "Why now? Why leave today?" he demanded.

"It is time for me to go."

"It's not safe in Firenze. The guards—"

"It's been half a year since we left. I doubt anyone will remember my face."

"Marietta—"

"I'm going, Federico. There's nothing you can say or do that will change my mind."

Claudia let out a sob and she felt Petruccio take hold of her hand. Jessica sighed heavily, wishing this had gone smoother. Staring solemnly at Federico as he ran a hand over his face and seemed to be searching desperately for something to say that would make her stay. The look on his face saddened her heart. "Look, I'm sorry. I've got to go find Mario and your brother. They would never forgive me if I didn't say goodbye."

She heard Petruccio choke behind her, "They're at the stables, I think."

Jessica turned her head and smiled softly at him in thanks, squeezing his hand once before letting go to pick up her bags. She heard Federico storm toward her and she steeled herself in preparation for an argument.

"Marry me."

The words hung heavily in the air and then swung toward her, nearly knocking her off her feet. Her heart thudded and her stomach lurched as if she were on a rollercoaster that had just begun its plummet.

Slowly, she turned to Federico and found that he was leaning over the low wall of the training ring. His long, dark hair was pulled back in a low ribbon, tendrils had stuck to his glistening face and his chest heaved like he had run a marathon. His deep brown eyes gleamed in the concaves of his face. He was breathtaking in his masculine glory, she had to admit. His words reverberated through her skull and crashed through her ribs. Jessica had never thought to hear those words, not anytime soon and to be honest; they were the worst thing he could have said.

How was she supposed to respond? She didn't want to hurt him. God, she had thought he was getting over her. Moving on. Obviously she was dead wrong. She could see the hope glimmering in his caramel eyes. Hell, was this really happening? What did he honestly think she would say?

Jessica couldn't find a sentence, not even a single word. She backed away from him, bags in hand, and quickly looked away before she could see the anger and heartbreak. She needed to leave before she could do anymore damage to this man.

Without another glance to any of the Auditores, she fled. Damn Mario. Damn the White Hood. Damn Federico. Wasn't it enough that she had saved their lives? How dare they ask anymore of her? So much more than she was able to give.

Assassins. Marriage. Love.

Sebastian was saddled quickly, and the nice young stableboy skilfully strapped her bags to his back and then wished her safe travels. Federico's proposal echoed within her angry, panicked mind as she climbed onto Sebby's back.

She should have replied to Federico. She should have hugged Claudia and Petruccio tight. She should have sought out Mario and the White Hood and properly thanked and bid them farewell. But she couldn't get past Federico's words. They were icing on the cake of her stress and worry.

So she left Monteriggioni without another glance, following the signs that pointed to Florence.

Jessica Raso distracted herself with songs of her world which she sang loud and long. Her left palm burned with fury. She ignored that too.


	16. Chapter 15 (2015)

Leonardo Da Vinci, upon answering his front door at an unforgivably early hour of the morning, promptly burst into tears.

"Miss me, Leo?" She grinned as he scooped her into his embrace and held her tight. Her breath left her in a whoosh as he crushed her to him with a strength she didn't know he had. Jessica chuckled at the warmth of the hug and at the wetness of his tears on her shoulder. He dragged her inside, scooping her bags under an arm and dropping them at the bottom of the stairs.

"Oh, it is so good to see you!" he blubbered, sniffing loudly in his pyjamas. "I had been hoping that you would come back soon, I knew that you would and now... here you are!"

"It's good to be back. I forgot how beautiful Florence is." She laughed as he finally released her from his bone crushing hug and stepped back to look her over.

"Your letters seemed so sad. Are you alright?" He held her shoulders, and she felt as if he were lifting off some of the weight which had been set upon them since the day Mario and Ezio had returned from San Gimignano.

She took a deep breath and smiled softly at him, a sad weariness in her eyes, "I am now." His tear-stained face stretched into a smile but she saw the concern in the crease of his brow. "I've got a lot to tell you, Leo, but right now I just want to sleep."

"Ah, of course, you have travelled a long way. Did you come alone?"

She nodded and he frowned as he began to steer her back toward the stairs. "That was dangerous. The streets are not safe for a woman."

"This _world_ isn't safe for a woman, but I manage. I'm not entirely defenceless."

"I know, I know, but I still worry," he sighed before perking up. "This is so exciting! I can't wait to show you all that has happened since we last saw each other. I am eager for your thoughts on so many things."

"I'm looking forward to it, Leonardo."

Her bedroom had gone untouched since she last saw it and so she bid Leonardo a good morning and collapsed on the bed fully dressed, her bags lying forgotten on the floor. Jessica felt better than she had in weeks. She took a deep breath in, smelling the musty odour of her room which mixed with the strong tang of paint, ink and sawdust. She wiggled uncomfortably on the hard, thin straw mattress and thought sadly of her feather mattress in Monteriggioni. She didn't want to think of it, of any of it and especially not of Federico and his ridiculous proposal.

His brown eyes filled her mind's eye, full of fear and hope. Jessica gritted her teeth, fluffed her pillow and turned over with a sigh, forcefully clearing her mind.

* * *

It was late afternoon when she made her way down the stairs in a clean dress and soft leather shoes. Leonardo hadn't been kidding when he told her his business had boomed. In-progress paintings and statues littered the workshop, the walls and tables were absolutely overflowing with parchments which were covered in scribbles and sketches, and several young men bustled about tinkering with this and that. She watched as one of the anonymous men, who all looked quite self-important, picked a crate filled with a number of completed portraits and hurried out of the door, no doubt to drop them off to the paintings' subjects. In the middle of it all was Leonardo himself, looking exuberant in his red cape and hat.

Turning to see her gaping, he hurried over and eagerly grasped her hand, leading her over to show her his new life and everything in it. As long and detailed as his letters had been, he couldn't hope to express just how busy he had become, with not only commissions but with his personal projects, inventions and innovations and the like. She could pick out sketches and small models of creations familiar to her own time: submarines and water-pumps and what looked like a prototype tank, there were drawings which were eerily similar to those she had been showed in her school art classes, and the mirror-writing which stretched across almost every inch of empty space on the sketch pages was simply unmistakeable as that of Leonardo da Vinci.

A grin permanently stretched her cheeks as her friend dragged her excitedly from place to place around the room, chattering at her as she gazed around in wonder and anticipation. Leo seemed to be the same as always, but if she believed that their life together would pick up just where it left off with their ambling walks through the marketplaces of Firenze and their quiet evenings in front of the fire, she was very wrong and yet she was not disappointed. This new life of Leonardo's was exactly what she had been yearning for. Having grown up during the turn of the 21st century, she was accustomed to a fast-paced life, whether it be school, work, sports, family, friends or all of the above, she had been almost constantly occupied, until she had found herself here.

Having had such frequent correspondence, there was very little that the two had to catch up on otherwise, and so she found herself caught up in her new life.

* * *

The months passed in relative bliss as she assisted the artist in all that he required. Her presence was, at first, an issue of vexation to the young men who presently worked for Leo, but it was not long before she put them in their place and proved herself just as, if not more, capable. Her considerable intellect, having these past months withered in the company of the entirely pleasant but not entirely intelligent Claudia and Petruccio now blossomed and thrived with the company of Leonardo's deep, innovative and thoughtful mind. Her journal quickly filled with notes on their evocative conversations and his endless teachings as well as humourous and interesting events which transpired between the close friends.

The seasons changed and Christmas came and went, with a lot more religion than she was accustomed to, but any discomfort or annoyance was pushed aside by the sheer amount of snow which sprinkled the city, coating the orange rooftops like white icing and falling from the sky like, well, like snow. Leonardo nearly had a heart attack when he had to drag her inside after a particularly heavy snow fall, she having ran outside to laugh and play in the cold, white fluff. Having lived in Australia, Christmas had been a time of sun, barbecues and beaches, and a white Christmas had been a thing of television and movies, but now here she was in the most beautiful city she had ever seen, in Italy, where she had always wanted to go. The greatest friend she had ever had threw her into her bed and fussed about her, certain that she was going to catch her death.

As time went on, Leonardo's business only grew and Jessica tagged along as they walked the snowy streets to the homes of Italian nobles who had commissioned him, and when she grew bored of watching him paint, she would walk along the bridges over the river Arno, now holding almost the entire population of Florence who had come to play and dance on its glassy, solid surface.

The novelty of snow and winter wore off just before the New Year and it wasn't until late March that the white melted and dripped away, falling from its place on the tiled rooftops to be trampled underfoot, streaming in rivers through the streets into the Arno and out of the city.

* * *

On a wet but sunny morning, Jessica sat with Leonardo in the quiet courtyard next to his workshop, surrounded by the sweet odours of the budding spring in the crisp air. He had convinced her to model a portrait much to her chagrin and she was punishing him by making it as difficult as possible.

"_Per l'amor di dio_, stay still!"

With a haughty sniff, her chin raised regally in the air and her body draped with the rich material of robes Leonardo had purchased especially for this work, she raised an innocent eyebrow at the aggravated artist.

"I am still."

"_Bugiardo! _Each time I look away you move!"

"I have no idea what you are talking about."

"Do not move," he growled at her guiltless expression, reaching over to take a thinner brush from the table beside him which held more paints, brushes, spatulas and palette knives than such a thin-legged table should. Fingers stained more colours than a rainbow; Leonardo gathered paint from his large palette onto the thin brush and extended his hand to the canvas resting on the easel in front of him.

Blue eyes left his infuriating model and rested on the painting in front of him, a mess in its early stages but coming together nicely enough. Watching his eyes leave her, her lips pursed into a mischievous smirk as she shrugged quickly, disrupting the folds of her robes and flicked her hair as she tilted her head slightly to the right. Her green eyes stared hard at the grey wall as she stilled and waited for the inevitable.

There was a roar of fury and she heard something being thrown. The quick, sharp Italian which followed fell on ignorant ears and she turned her head to gaze at the young man who was on his feet and pacing in aggravation, his red cap crushed between tense fingers and his blue eyes burning. Jessica blinked in wide eyed amusement as he continued on his tirade, no doubt against her, and found she could not resist antagonising him further.

Her head tilted patronisingly to the side as her eyebrows rose and her tongue clicked against the back of her teeth in a tut. "Leo, you know I can't understand a thing you say when you're this upset. Why don't you sit down and take a few deep breaths, hmm?"

Icy blue seared into her own green, contrasting against the deepening red of his face. "_Calm down?! You...! _You are the most _infuriating_ person I have ever had the displeasure to meet! Calm down?_ Calm down! _How _dare _you?"

"Come now, Leonardo there's really no need to be so upset."

"Upset? I'm not_ upset_, what makes you think that I'm upset?"

"I think you are."

"I'm _not_ upset. I am... I'm _annoyed_! All I wished was to sit outside on this lovely morning and paint a portrait of my dearest friend but now... oh, now I see that was entirely too much to ask!"

"Well perhaps your dearest friend did not want to have a portrait painted of her and would much rather be doing something else."

"Perhaps this friend should appreciate that I am willing to paint her portrait without fee!"

"Ah, yes, I shall grovel and worship upon the ground you walk on, _ser_. Hah! The day I do will be the day you stop waking me up at all hours of the morning to help carry your things to the Arno so that you can paint the stars, or when you clean up your mess in the workshop or do your own dishes, or deal with arrogant noblewomen who scare you!"

"Well what about you, _signorina_? You, with your touching and moving of my things from their proper place, and your ridiculous habit of bathing three times a week!"

"Oh, I am sorry if my hygienic ways offend you. I forget that you enjoy smelling like stale sweat."

His lips peeled back from his teeth to snap a reply but he was interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. Bitter words died in their mouths as they turned in perfect synchronisation to face the disruptor.

He stood in the arched entranceway to the courtyard, his strong, broad shoulders and tall stature making him seem impossibly large. Even with his face shrouded in shadow, his white hood made it impossible to mistake him for someone else.

Jessica's stomach clenched and her tongue filled with a sudden weight, her throat becoming dry as she sat still, observing as he stepped into the courtyard and threw back his hood, revealing his strong jaw, tanned olive skin and straight nose and heavy brow. Golden eyes seared into her own, causing her heart to pound in her chest as her fingers tightened in her skirts and she resisted the urge to run. The primal fear that filled her at the sight of this predator in white made her feel light headed, her teeth taking hold of the meat of her cheek and clamping down as she took rapid, shallow breaths. A violent shiver ran up her spine as the muscles in her shoulders and back tensed to the point of pain and her insides wrapped around themselves and squeezed into a tight ball in the pit of her gut.

She rose shakily to her feet as he stepped calmly into the courtyard, those sharp eyes taking in the area with one swift glance. Her mind forced her lungs to calm and slow as she watched with a distorted ringing echoing in her ears, her eyes barely able to comprehend the form before her. Jessica watched as her friend embraced him eagerly, all irritation having vanished at the sight of the young man who seemed equally glad to see the artist. It had come to her mind previously that she would not see the Auditore's again after she left them, a thought which seemed ridiculous and entirely too optimistic in retrospect. This was their home city, and Leonardo had been their family friend before she had arrived here, but still she had hoped.

_Everything is as it should be. _

Mentally shushing the Voice, who had been an almost constant companion to her, though a generally silent one, her eyes ran over the armaments on the man's belts, and how brilliantly the red and gold streaks stood out against the white. The fingers of her left hand massaged the thrumming muscle of her thumb, and she noted with curiousity that it began to glow, something which had not happened since she had left Monteriggioni. The Voice was clearly glad of his presence.

Oh, what would he say to her? She could not say she hadn't imagined their meeting again, though she honestly had believed it would never come to be. She imagined he would be angry, that he would demand why she left and why she did not say goodbye. He would insult her for harming his brother and for breaking his heart, and would say that she was a fool for rejecting a man who loved her and who had the means to look after her. He would be furious that she had been so ungrateful to the family who had sheltered and fed and clothed her when she had nothing and no one else. No doubt it would go further; questions of why she had avoided them both after their return from San Gimignano.

Though she had spent so long thinking of all that he would demand of her, she still had no idea what she would say. She had no answers which didn't sound pathetic or rude. Jessica understood that she should not have run, it was not mature or helpful and it didn't provide the closure she didn't know she would desire, and it had hurt them. She could see it in the tense set of his shoulders and could almost see it in the forefront of his mind like a dark whirlpool of questions and accusations and words which desired to be said.

She registered faintly that Leonardo had spoken to her, and she mechanically carried out his request, her eyes glazed and staring blankly off into space, her movements stiff as she gathered his painting things into a basket and then picked up both stools as well as the small table, her fingers straining as she ducked her head and hurried back into the workshop. Leonardo and the man followed with the easel and the canvas, and her back remained to them as she placed the table and stools to the side and carried the basket of brushes and paints to a clear space on a table, one of Leonardo's helpers looked strangely at her, and then nodded his head curiously toward where Leonardo and the White Hood stood gazing around the workshop.

The White Hood. The White Hood was here. He had come back into her life as swiftly as he had the first time, and again as swiftly as she had left him behind.

"Ezio Auditore," she heard herself mumble to the assistant. He hummed with interest and took the basket from her to clean it himself. She nodded her thanks and steadied herself on the table, closing her eyes and taking a slow, long breath, realising she would have to deal with this like an adult.

He was here and she couldn't change that. He was also an important factor in the why of her being in this time and place, as the Voice had so nicely told her when she had left for Florence. Exactly what his role was, she didn't know as the Voice had quickly shut up when she had asked, just as it had when she had put forth any other such important questions, despite its previous promise to tell her everything.

When she felt calm, her eyes reopened and she stared hard at the window high on the wall. Alright, she told herself as she steeled her resolve and fortified her willpower. Let's just take this one step at a time. First step, get changed out of these robes.

Jessica risked a glance at Leonardo and the White Hood as she skittered past them to the stairs, and saw that Leo had gotten quite caught up in showing his young friend his projects. Smiling patiently, the White Hood nodded in amusement but seemed genuinely interested.

In her room, she threw off the robes and jumped into her usual dress and soft leather shoes. Patting at her dark hair as she descended the stairs, she paused to compose herself, now feeling simply anxious.

_Everything will be fine, Jessica. _

She found the words gave her courage and after another deep breath, her face clear of expression, she re-entered the workshop.

She could do this.


	17. Chapter 16 (2015)

"_Salve,_ Marietta. It has been some time. You look well."

Nodding with a tight smile she said nothing, observing how he refused to look at her as he spoke, and hearing the rigidity in his tone. A glance she shared with Leonardo told him all he needed to know about her feelings on Ezio's sudden arrival and her distrust of the man. Leo cleared his throat, blue eyes glimmering with understanding but not similar feeling.

He grinned at Ezio, who had noticed the brief and silent exchange, "You must have been keeping busy, Ezio. How is your family?"

The young man smiled, "They are well. There will be time, I hope, to sit down and talk over all that has happened since we last met. But now, I need your help again."

Only too eager to offer it, the men all but forgot her presence. Jessica watched in silence as the White Hood pulled a roll of yellowed parchment from a pouch on his belt and presented it to Leo.

"You remember the first one?" the assassin asked.

Leonardo grinned, nodding, "Of course. How could I forget? May I?"

Ezio relinquished the page to him and watched as the delighted man released it from its binding and unrolled it on the table nearby.

The Voice thrummed and the circular mark heated on her thumb.

_A codex page._

Her head tilting with curiousity, she moved to stand by Leonardo, who was muttering to himself. She felt the White Hood's eyes on her face like a warm breath but ignored him as she blinked in awe of the spectacle which arose before her. She didn't know what Leonardo saw amongst the dissonance of scrawling figures upon the page, but she bet anything it was nothing like what had appeared before her eyes.

A mystical swirl of silver and the lightest blue slithered like eels across the parchment. The page itself pulsated with a golden light which seemed all too familiar. Her fingers massaged the muscle of her left thumb as a tendril of ink streaked across the page. Another appeared from the thin air and the two dark streaks danced, dominant against the sea of white and blue. Her eyes followed the movements as though in a trance. More of the dark wisps materialised and took a partner. A mess of swirling, wriggling and twisting tendrils flashed in a spiralling dance, slithering like eels thrown upon the shore.

As if in reaction to an unheard command, the tendrils stuck to place on the page, forming legible words and labelled figures. She realised she had been holding her breath for quite some time, so she set it free and refilled her lungs, feeling light headed. Jessica watched as the silver and light blue wisps faded into nothing and then all evidence of mystical happenings was gone. She blinked, feeling strangely weak as she leaned a hand on the table for support. She watched as Leonardo consulted books and searched through manuscripts in his enthusiastic attempt to decipher the page and uncover the secrets which had presently appeared before her.

Glancing at Ezio, who had moved to sit pensively in the armchair – her armchair – by the fire, and then at Leonardo, who was nose-deep in an old tome, Jessica turned the page toward her and read it.

"'Twice the White,'" she murmured to herself, reaching out to finger the corner of the soft parchment.

An improved weapon which removed the need for a finger to be chopped off to use it, and added a metal plate to deflect blows; a formulae for a strange alloy to use in addition to Damascus Steel, figures showing methods to assassinate a person from a ledge, from a hay cart and from above and the suggested use of two hidden blades opposed to just one.

She ran the name 'Malik' over her tongue and felt a strange familiarity with the handwriting, as if she had seen both the name and the hand information contained on the page. Jessica stepped away, feeling quite out of her body as her mind struggled to discover the reason for the sense of familiarity.

_The Codex was written by Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad, Mentor of the Levantine Brotherhood of Assassins. It exists as both a journal and a study of the Piece of Eden, an Apple, which he possessed for the majority of his life. The Apple holds the power to create illusions, control the minds of humankind and impart to its holder, knowledge of the future._

For a moment, she was very still. Shocked, to say the least, that the Voice had conveyed such information freely, and also that it had spoken so many words at once. With nothing to say in return, she simply nodded and moved into the kitchen to fetch herself a cup of water. There she hid for some time, unwilling to return to the workshop which had been so pervaded by the White Hood's intimidating presence. Jessica knew that he would want to confront her sooner or later, but she was not looking forward to it. An assassin and a murderer, he was a stranger to her. The young boy of seventeen who had been so alone and confused after the death of his father and the loss of everything he knew and loved was not the same man who sat within. The boy she had sat and laughed with on that hill as they shared a picnic together on that fine evening so many months ago, did not exist. Perhaps he never had.

She recalled the night she had been woken by a nightmare of her father's death in the mine. The White Hood had stood on the rooftop across from her window, his white robes glowing stark against the fresh blood that stained his front. That had not been a dream. He had been a killer even then. Her stomach turned, disgusted at the thought. She had cared for him. She had taken care of him, fed him, watched after him. Her blood burned. The White Hood, the stranger in the bloody robes, and Ezio, the troubled young man, were one and the same.

Another cup of water ran down her throat, the cool sensation cooling her raging heart and steadying her trembling fingers. The taste of the metal mug was bitter in her mouth as she leaned against the counter and stared at the wall opposite.

Even after all this time, she still felt as angry and lost as she had the day she woke up on that bench. While events unfolded around her, while people came and went, she still felt the same heaviness in the pit of her stomach and the uncertainty of a mind filled with confusion and doubt. She was grateful for Leonardo, of course, but even he held a limited understanding of her situation. though he knew more than anyone on the earth. Jessica shook herself as her mind began to descend into the depths of the self-pity and despair with which it had recently become familiar. It wouldn't help anything to fall into a kind of depression or constant angst. Not that she could help it some days.

Sighing, she returned to the workshop, finding that an hour had almost passed and that the White Hood had disappeared.

"Are you alright?" Leonardo asked her from where he was bent over the apparently deciphered Codex page. The morning sun streamed through the high windows and upon his face, smooth and happy in the afterglow of the White Hood's visit. A tight smile and a short nod was her answer.

Though she didn't want to, she found herself growing annoyed at how her friend had thrown himself into the task assigned to him by the White Hood; a task which would serve to further the assassin's deadly work. Her jaw tightened as she turned from him and glared at her armchair which now seemed tainted. She could not look at it without seeing the man sitting upon the cushions and throw blankets strewn across the high backed, floral patterned chair.

"You're helping him, then?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light.

Leonardo, knowing her too well, was not fooled. "He is a friend," he said diplomatically.

"So you know what he does?" she winced as her voice cut through the air toward him. Keeping his eyes upon the books before him, he replied, "I do not ask."

Jessica recoiled as if he had spat at her. A tremor rippled throughout her body, causing her nostrils to flare and her fingers to curl into tense fists as she simply turned on her heel and marched out the door before she said anything she would later regret.

She was at odds with this world and the people in it. That was plain to see. As she strode through the morning markets, boisterous and colourful as they were, she looked at the people and she felt no inherent connection with them. She was an outsider in this time, and she very much doubted that fact would ever change no matter how she had convinced herself otherwise. Even Leonardo da Vinci himself was not progressive enough for her consistent comfort.

_You are not one of them, Jessica. Nor will you ever be._

Making a sudden turn, she made a beeline to a bench in a relatively isolated area by the Arno River, where the sounds of the crowds enjoying the market were less oppressive and passersby were far and in between. Sitting upon the cool, hard stone, she took a deep breath of the stench that was the city. Though the river water was not overtly foul, she would not dare drink it nor swim in it, having personally seen the waste, both human-produced and otherwise, which was thrown into it daily. As a result of this, it gave off a bitter scent which nipped at the nose and offended the otherwise scenic view.

_You are unhappy. You have been for some time._

Jessica nodded, wondering why the Voice, after all this time, had finally begun to talk freely to her. She placed her hands in her lap and fingered the material of her dress broodingly.

_It is understandable for you to be upset. You have been taken from your home, from everyone you love and everything you know, and thrust into this place which goes intrinsically against every value you hold dear. Know that you are right to be wary and distrustful. The Auditores are not your allies. They, as well as all others you will meet and know, are a means to an end. In the meantime use them to stave off your loneliness. You require companionship and so take it as it is offered, in any form. But do not trust them. Do not trust anyone other than yourself. _

Resting her head against the wall behind her, a slow breath blew from her nose.

"Does that include you?"

The Voice seemed amused by this. She could almost hear a smile in its tone when it replied, _That is for you to decide. _

Jessica chuckled shortly, "Why all the talking all of the sudden?"

For several long beats the Voice was silent. Expecting this, she rolled and closed her eyes as the sun kissed her cheeks and throat, warming her hands where they sat on her lap. She could feel that the bench below here was not just cool, but also wet, and there was a puddle at her feet into which a continuous stream water fell as it careened off the edge of the roof high above her. A small flock of birds called to each other as they flew overhead. A slight, crisp wind blew against her exposed skin, raising goosebumps which were quickly soothed by the warmth of the sun still shining above.

Jessica imagined for a moment that growing from each of those raised hair follicles was a smooth, gleaming black feather, and that her arms were very much like the wings of a bird and that she could simply wave them to and fro and she would be lifted into the air and away from this place. She imagined her wings would take her wherever and _when_ever she liked and there was no voice in her head and no heaviness in her heart. She dreamed she could do whatever she liked and that she could be forever free.

_I, too have experienced such wretched isolation._

Though she registered the sincere admittance, she chose not to acknowledge it and instead lost herself in her daydream.


	18. Chapter 17 (2015)

Jessica Raso was woken some hours later to the icy sensation of a blade pressed against her throat. This was what awoke her, but it was not, strangely enough, her most immediate concern. It seemed that as she had fallen asleep, the puddle at her feet had deepened and spread and had soaked quite thoroughly into her soft leather shoes and her feet were now completely wet, cold and no doubt pruned. Being dry and having unintentional wet feet was the worst sensation she had ever experienced until the moment the knife was pressed more firmly against the thin membrane of her exposed throat, and a single bead of hot blood could be felt rolling lazily down the chilled skin, across her collarbone and soaking into the dark material of her dress.

In an instant, her entire body had tensed to the point of pain and she had forced her every muscle to press against the wall and as far back from the weapon being held to her most vulnerable place as was humanly possible, without merging into the wall itself. Her lips, dry with the cold, parted in fear as her eyes sought out the pale face of her attacker in the low evening light.

A man, some years older than her, with dark hair beneath a low cap and dark grey eyes above a hooked nose and a twisted mouth loomed over her. She could smell the stale sweat on his filthy clothes, and could taste the stench of his breath as it fanned across her face. "Hello there, sweetheart. What is a precious thing like yourself doing out here in the dark, hm?" Terror ran down her spine like ice as her fingers tightened around the edge of the stone bench. Her bones ached from the cold and from the upright position she had slept in. Her eyes followed the length of his arm to where she could just see the curve of his wrist and the metallic handle of the dagger which now threatened her life.

"You have something for me?"

Her tongue was like sandpaper in her mouth as her scattered thoughts formed coherent sentences. He was a thief. She was being mugged. He had a knife. She was in trouble.

Remembering she had left Leonardo's workshop with nothing on her, she silently cursed. She had left the dagger Leonardo had given her in the drawer beside her bed, next to the small green bag of florins. Seeing the dangerous glint in the thief's eyes she highly doubted that he would be too happy at hearing she had nothing to give him, yet she was entirely defenceless.

"No," she croaked. "I have nothing."

Those grey eyes narrowed and he snarled, leaning closer to her face and pressing the blade more firmly against her tender, bleeding throat. "I don't believe you."

"I've got nothing on me, I swear."

The night was deathly silent. Her eyes were fixed upon his, trying to see within them just what his intentions were. She prayed that someone would come around the corner. Be it the guards, or a group of women or even the White Hood. Anyone who could save her from being mugged and god knows what else. However, the streets were silent. The markets had closed long ago and there were not many decent folk who liked to walk the streets on a cold evening. She hadn't told Leonardo where she was going before she stormed out, and she knew better than to count on a murderer like the White Hood to come and save her. He was not a hero and he was not her friend and he most likely didn't even know she was missing. She was alone, just as she had always been.

It wasn't long before grey eyes fell to leer at the smooth skin of her exposed chest.

"The thing is, _bella, _I still don't believe you. Maybe I should check that you're not hiding anything under that pretty dress of yours."

The cool metal of the dagger left her neck and she felt the sharp tip travel across the plain of her chest to the rise of her breast and to the edge of the material which held them. Jessica only watched as he pulled away from her and began to tug at the belt on his pants, grinning to himself and panting like a dog. He was still the one armed, but at the appearance of his clear intent to rape her, she felt a shift within her and as she gazed upon the wretched form of this male who was almost drooling at the thought of violating her, she no longer felt afraid.

She was on her own and she was defenceless, yes, but that did not mean that she would just lie down and let him have his way with her. She would not fall on her knees and wait for death. She had no family, no home, no identity and no function in this life other than to survive.

So, she thought. She would survive.

The cold ache in her bones melted away as her lungs drew in the cool evening air and her heart beat with composure unlike any she had hoped to expect in a situation such as this. Her lips pressed into a tight line as she leaned forward from the wall, her fingers leaving the edge of the bench and curling into warm fists.

Her body burned, thrumming with a white hot fury which exploded in her mind like the birth of a star, spilling into her chest like the swirling expanse of a galaxy and streaming into the marking on her left palm which burned with the fire of eternity.

Jessica stood and the man growled at her, raising his dagger threateningly. She could see his member, hanging from his pants like a shrivelled pickle, exposed and pathetic. The river Arno stilled as if snap-frozen, the curl of the waves beautiful in the dark golden light of the setting sun. The sounds of the world faded to silence, from the slapping of the water against the gondolas on the pier, to the rustling of the leaves of the tree standing high above the buildings nearby. A glint of gold caught her eye and she observed as a droplet of water falling from the roof to join the puddle at her feet was held suspended, motionless in mid fall.

She stared for several long moments at the world around her in its inert state, feeling as if, in that instance, she was more than what she was.

Then the droplet fell, and the noise returned and the thief lunged for her. She ducked beneath the hand which clawed the air where her hair had just been, then stepped away from him. He turned to her, chortling. He spun the knife in his hand and shrugged his member back into his pants.

"So it's going to be like that huh? You could make it so much easier for yourself." He licked his lips, "I promise you'll like it."

Beyond comprehension of such lesser feelings of revulsion, the fury burned within her chest as her eyes took in her opponent with a crystalline clarity. She retained a stony silence as he looked up and down, clearly wondering whether she had what it took to take him on. He evidently decided she did not, and he grinned.

"Come on sweetheart, I don't want to hurt you. But I will if I must."

He lunged for her again. She simply smacked his hand out of the air. He retracted the appendage with a wince and glared at her. He pointed the knife toward her.

"This is your last chance, girl."

She blinked at him. "I better not waste it then."

Jessica knew that it was not she who so confidently confronted her intended rapist then. She knew it was not she who dodged his fists and the fast, gleaming blade with a tranquillity that unnerved him. She could only watch as her hands took a hold of the wrist which held the dagger, as her nimble feet danced to stand at his back, her strong arms wrenching his own behind his back and twisting the wrist with a strength she knew very well she did not possess. The thief roared in pain as the crack echoed across the inky river and rebounded through the shadowed streets, and he pulled away, stumbling to lean against the same bench he had found her sleeping upon. He cradled his wrist against his chest, heaving with the agony.

She waited until he flung himself at her once again, now injured and enraged, and she once again smacked the approaching fist out of the air. She spun out of the way, so she stood behind him as the momentum behind his missed blow carried him on unsteady feet in the direction of the river. She watched as he reached the edge and his wide, grey eyes peered fearfully into the depths of the dark, icy waters. He waved his arms and tried to regain his balance. And for a moment it seemed he had. Until her hand placed itself on his back and gave him a firm push.

He fell beneath the waves as the last of the golden light sank below the horizon. She did not know whether or not he could swim, but found it to be unlikely. Either way, she didn't wait to see if his head broke the surface. She stepped away from the river and found herself immensely heavy with a sudden weariness as the Voice relinquished control of her body. Leaning over to rest her hands on her knees, Jessica panted as the ache returned to her limbs and the cool night air settled upon her skin.

When her breaths had calmed and she felt composed once again, she gazed around to find the direction of Leonardo's workshop, knowing that he would be beside himself with concern.

_Wait. Look there._

Truly taken aback by the Voice's continuous input, she nevertheless looked about and saw on the ground nearby, a small roll of parchment bound with string. Realising it must have fallen from the thief's belt during their fight; she picked it up from the wet ground and unrolled the damp parchment.

_Adolfo, _

_The target's name is Marietta Sanfilippo. _

_You must follow her closely and take a report of her every move. Do not let her see you. _

_Do not let any harm come to her. _

_Do not fail me._

_La Volpe. _

Blinking in shock, she re-read the letter several times over, hardly believing it to be real. Someone had had her followed? Jessica frowned and looked around her anxiously, wondering if anyone else was in the shadows observing her without her knowledge. She had thought to return to Leo's right away but how could she know if it would be safe to do so? There could be others like the thief Adolfo, who had been ordered to trail her and not allow any harm to come to her, only to attempt to harm her himself.

But why was _she_ being followed, and who was this La Volpe who ordered it? As much as she longed to run back to her room and hide under the warm covers of her bed, she knew that she could not until she had figured this out. What she didn't know, however, was where to start.

_There is a place in the depths of this city where the depraved and the wicked go to play. I will show you the way if you wish. _

"You reckon I'd find La Volpe there?"

_I do not know. It is a good place to start._

A deep breath, a short doubt as to how much she trusted the Voice which had taken permanent residence within her mind, and then she nodded, flexing the fingers of her left hand to stretch the aching muscle of her thumb.

"Alright, lead the way."


	19. Chapter 18 (2015)

"Okay. Maybe this wasn't such a great idea."

The Voice had led her to a pub. The White Heart Inn. An ironic name for an establishment whose patrons appeared to be more of the dark hearted kind. Jessica huddled close to the alley wall across the way, watching the yellow candlelight within throw dark shadows across the windows. Shady looking characters with lowered heads and shifty eyes shuffled quickly through the arched doorway, the moonlight glinting on the cold steel at their hips. A cold wind blew, raising goosebumps on her arms.

She had never been to this part of the city before. In fact, she had absolutely no idea where this part of the city was. The streets were filthy with dirt and excrement, and broken crates were piled high in the corners where trees and gardens had once stood. The alley behind her reeked of urine, and the high-pitched screeching of rats reached her ears from every direction. She couldn't decide whether it was worse to breathe through her nose to fully inhaling each repugnant scent, or to breathe through her mouth and taste them.

Gazing at the White Heart Inn, it seemed the last place she would ever willingly walk into alone. Her entire being screamed warning and her mind could barely believe that she was even considering such a stupid move. But she considered what the Voice had done for her. Aside from finally seeming willing to answer some of her many questions about her purpose in this place, it was the only one who knew more about what was going on in her life than she did. It knew what she thought and how she was feeling. It even appeared to understand, though to what extent and sincerity she didn't know. It had also stopped her from helping Federico in the fight outside Monteriggioni, and it had helped her fight off the thief by the Arno, effectively saving her life in both instances.

However, she wondered at the extent of its goodwill; it appeared to be living within her mind, like a symbiotic organism and as such it was reasonable that by keeping her alive, it was simply ensuring its own survival. She was almost certain that wherever it would lead her, it didn't intend for her to get hurt along the way. Besides, she couldn't go home when she knew very well that potentially dangerous people were following her. She had fled Florence once before in order to keep Leonardo safe, but in this case, she had nowhere else to go and thus, she would much prefer it if she needn't leave at all. Which only left the option of confronting the man who was having her followed.

The thought of leaving a note or a message for Leonardo tickled her mind, but again that would involve the returning to his workshop. There was the notion to leave something on the street but it would surely be taken by another, perhaps even her stalkers themselves. In any case, Leo would not come looking for her in this part of the city, where it was so far from their home and where she had never been before.

And where she wished she had never come.

A heavy sigh rolled from deep within her chest and escaped her lips in a gust of exasperated exhaustion. Ever since she had woken up on that bench, her life had gone from bad to worse. Now she felt as if she were willingly jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. What more could life throw at her?

As she watched, the door to the inn was thrown open and a large form stumbled out into the streets. Golden hair shone like a halo in the pale moonlight as the man leaned heavily against the wall of the inn, raising the bottle in his hand to his lips. The yellow candlelight from the window to his left illuminated only half of his face, which was upturned to the starry sky, his eyes drinking in the view more deeply than his mouth ever could.

A sudden warmth on her foot sent her lurching from the alleyway with a horrified shriek as the large black rodent screeched at her through sharp teeth and flaming red eyes before it turned its fleshy tail, releasing her boot and streaking off into the darkness from whence it came. Shuddering in revulsion, she shook her skirts and stepped further away from the rat-infested alley.

"Hello there, sweetheart."

Terror clutched at her throat as grey eyes filled her vision and she scrambled away as a hand reached for her. To her surprise, it immediately recoiled and was raised in surrender.

"Whoa. Whoa, it's alright. I'm no' gonna hurt ye. Don't worry."

Jessica blinked and the grey eyes were suddenly blue. She gazed at the raised hands and noticed that one was holding a green bottle filled with a dark liquid. Her heart pounded in her chest as she fought to lengthen her panting breaths. Her green eyes inspected the man before her, who waited patiently as she composed herself. A simple white shirt and brown pants, sturdy boots and a brown belt holding several small pouches were all that covered him. What was of interest was his shaggy blonde hair and blue eyes, features which were incredibly familiar to her, and yet entirely out of place in this country.

"Sorry," she apologized shortly.

As his hands lowered and his face broke into a good-natured smile, the most interesting thing happened. His dark blonde eyebrows, which had been low over his eyes, shot half-way up his forehead and stayed there.

"It's my fault for startlin' you. I understand why ye would be wary of a man in such a part of town as this."

As he spoke, she watched those two furry lines bend and curl as they rose and fell dramatically as each emotion crossed his face. They had to be, by far the most expressive eyebrows she had ever seen in her life.

"Speaking of which, ye really don't look like you belong. Are ye lost?"

"Yes. I mean, no. Um." She cleared her throat as he waited. "I'm looking for someone."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I was told he might be in there." She nodded toward the White Heart Inn where her obvious hesitance was emphasized by a male shout and a loud crash.

The blonde caterpillars crawled toward his hairline. "In _there? _I do no' think that is a good idea for you to be walkin' around by yourself in there."

Jessica chuckled darkly, "Yeah, well, why do you suppose I haven't gone in yet?"

Silence fell over them as he tipped back the bottle and took several long gulps. "Perhaps I could be of assistance, m'lady_._" The sleeve of his white shirt wiped across his mouth as he let out a breath of alcohol which made her feel slightly nauseous. "Who is it you're looking for?"

"Someone called La Volpe."

Blue eyes widened, a hand wrapped around her upper arm and before she knew it, she was being pulled firmly through the arched doorway of the White Heart was too surprised to struggle as she was dragged through the crowded tables of men, who let off a stench far worse than the street outside. The fingers on her arm were firm but gentle as the fair-haired man led her to a small table to the side of the pub, the nearest to the fire and the furthest from the bar. Here he released her and sat, motioning for her to do so also. She was shaken, but her left hand did not burn and the man didn't look at her with anything but wide-eyed concern.

Her legs lowered her carefully onto the seat across from him and her green eyes stared steadily until he raised his from the bottle he was twirling nervously in his hands. With a silent patience, she waited for his explanation.

"Ye can't just be sayin' that name so loud."

"Why not? Who are you?"

"My name is Elmo. And ye shouldn't say his name. He's got eyes everywhere."

"I know, I just met one. Do you know where he is?"

"Me?" he chortled. "No, I've never met the man. 'Course, I'm no thief. You'll be wantin' to ask one of them if ye want to find him. There's no guarantee they'll tell ye, though. Likely they'd sooner put a sword through your guts."

A darkly amused breath escaped her parted lips, "Lovely."

Those expressive eyebrows rose as he shrugged helplessly and took another drink. Her head turned to subtly let her eyes explore her surroundings. There were dozens of men and women, either sitting or standing in any clear space available. Some tables were covered with boards, onto which men threw money and dice and cheered or booed loudly at seemingly random intervals. To the right of the bar was a cordoned area where large, thick men were fighting for florins, their battered flesh black, yellow and red as the onlookers who gambled on them screamed for blood to be spilled. Jessica watched in distaste as bar wenches with low dresses served alcohol and food, smiling at well-mannered men and screeching at the groping hands of the others. In the far corner, a bard strummed his lute and sang, though his voice was drowned by the cacophony of the others in the room. The smell of men, meat and alcohol was ripe in the hot air, as the fire roared in the enormous fireplace on the wall behind Elmo.

She couldn't even think of his name without a smile tugging at her lips but the reminder that she couldn't share her amusement with anyone who would understand soured the thought.

"So he's a thief?"

"Nay. He's _the _thief." Elmo leaned forward, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "He once robbed the Papal carriage, without a _single_ guard noticing, _while_ the Pope was in it."

"Huh."

He nodded and turned to shout at a bar wench, who sauntered over and placed two bottles before them before winking at Elmo and moving onto the next table. He finished his first bottle then picked up the fresh one, taking a mouthful then leaning close to her once again.

"They say he has eyes of violet, which allow him to see through walls. He can run across the rooftops with incredible speed, unmatched by any man. His skin is as thick as leather and no sword can touch him, and even if it did, he can no' die."

Her fingers wrapped around the cool glass of the bottle and brought it to her nose for a gentle sniff. She recoiled, her face scrunching in disgust. It was alcohol alright, though what, she couldn't say.

"He's immortal, is he?" Jessica drawled, with blatant skepticism.

Elmo leaned back, nodding severely as he caressed his drink, bringing it to his lips frequently. After some hesitation, she steeled herself and brought her own bottle to her mouth. The taste was foul, so she placed it on the table and didn't touch it again.

"One night, not so many years ago, he was spotted on the rooftops of the Palazzo della Signoria, the Palazzo Medici, and the Basilica di Santa Croce... _at the same time_."

If he had expected her to gasp in astonishment, he would be disappointed. It sounded like absolute bull.

"Well, whoever he is and whatever he can do, I need to find him. Somehow."

Elmo sighed deeply and fixed her with a deep blue stare, one that was not unkind. "I suppose I could help ye, though it will no' be an easy task. We'll have to ask around, carefully, mind you. And not here."

After a beat, she smiled. "I'd appreciate that."

Red rose on his cheeks and she was pleased to note that he had freckles, but he looked away from her with a shrug. "Ah, ye seem like a good lass. And what sort of man would I be if I let ye wander about and get yourself killed? Just tell me, why are ye lookin' for the Fox, anyhow?"

She hesitated, and he saw it.

_You can trust this man._

I thought you said I shouldn't trust anyone.

_Exactly._

Now that that was cleared up, Jessica sighed, reaching into her skirts and withdrawing the letter she had found. Caution clear in her eyes and a calm reassurance in his own, she passed it to him and watched in silence as he read it.

"Well, well. Ye are in a tad of trouble, aren't ye?" To her surprise, he laughed as he returned the letter. "Do ye have any idea why he's ordered ye followed, then?"

She rolled and pocketed the parchment, shaking her head. "Not a clue."

"I don't suppose this Adolfo you got the letter from just handed it over, did he?" The question was asked with a chuckle, but the emotion it evoked within her was one far from amused. Her tongue forced down the bile which flooded into mouth as her stomach turned and she felt the blood drain from her face. Her hands trembled violently in her lap as she forced herself to keep eye contact, even as Elmo's blue eyes became grey.

Jessica wavered in her seat, grabbing the edge of the table in an attempt to remain upright as her mind rebelled against her, throwing horrific images to the front of her mind.

Dark, icy waters. Arms waving for balance. A familiar hand placed on a man's back. A push.

At once, her arm shot out to take a hold of the green bottle, bringing it to her lips and letting the cool, bitter liquid burn down her throat. As she drank, her eyes closed and she repressed it all.

It didn't happen. It never happened. It wasn't her.

The memories of the encounter with the thief who had attacked her resisted as her mental hands bent and twisted them, cutting them into bits and discarding the darkest pieces into a small box which was forced to the back of her mind. What was left was a distorted and hazy memory, but one she could recount as her truth.

By the time the bottle had left her lips and her eyes had opened once more, she was calm, and Elmo's eyes were blue, and she was herself again. Nothing had happened.

"No. He dropped it."

It was clear in his eyes that he knew that there was more to her tale, but he decided not to question it. "It doesn't sound like yer in any danger by his hand. It's almost as if he's got his people lookin' after ye."

"That's the good thing, I suppose. I just want to know _why_ he's got people looking after me."

"Fair enough. Yer name is Marietta, is it?"

She flushed immediately, ashamed that she had forgotten to introduce herself. "Yeah, sorry. I'm Marietta Sanfilippo." The name had come to feel familiar to her, and though she was no closer to finding out who the real Marietta was, and why she was mistaken for her, she no longer had any qualms about adopting it as her own. She liked it better than plain old Jessica Raso, in any case.

"Pleasure to meet ye, Marietta," Elmo grinned, his cheeks glowing with the heat from the fire and the buzz of his drink. She had to admit, he was a handsome man, though his breath stank and his nose seemed almost too big for his face. It was his eyes which gave her cause to like him, however. Through them she could see his quick mind, his laid-back nature and his sincere interest in her plight. In all, she could almost imagine him as a native from her own country, if not for his accent.

"You're not Italian, are you?"

His animated eyebrows did the sighing for him, obviously very accustomed to this inquiry. "Half. My da was Italian but my maw's a full blooded Scot."

She smiled, nodding, "I thought so."

"Met many Scots?"

"You're the first."

"'Tis an honour."

"Indeed."

He chuckled and called the bar wench over, having finished his drink. As they waited, she took another gulp of her own, wincing as it scorched and her stomach churned in protest. "So, tell me about yourself, Marietta Sanfilippo. Ye must be a woman of great importance to have a man like La Volpe on your tail."

"Actually, there's not all that much to tell. I come from a family of five," she replied honestly, not seeing any reason to lie, "consisting of my parents, my older sister and my younger brother. We had a cat, and we lived in a house."

"'Lived'? Ye moved out of home, then. Wed yourself to a strapping young lad, eh?"

She smiled at his energetic tone and the way he appeared to hang onto each word she spoke. He was a good listener, a people person. But the smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "Not exactly."

He waited patiently for her to continue. Though she disliked alcohol and everything which resulted from the drink, she found herself taking another gulp. Cradling the bottle in her hand and staring into the dark liquid within, her mind sought for an explanation to give her new friend, though it had no explanation itself.

"Something happened, and we were... separated. I was separated. Now I have no idea how to get back to them. Or if I even can."

"I'm sorry to hear that. You live alone then?"

"No, I am Leonardo da Vinci's assistant."

"I've seen his work. He has a skilled hand."

"He is a skilled man."

"And a great one, I'm sure."

She nodded, happy at the thought of her friend. "He took me in when I had nothing. Clothed me, fed me and put me to work. He's absolutely incredible."

"It's good ye have someone like that in your life. The work, however, surprises me. What does da Vinci have ye do?"

"Anything he needs done. Talking with customers, taking orders, delivering works, cleaning up the workshop, researching things for his inventions, sometimes modelling..."

Elmo whistled, "Well, he certainly keeps ye busy."

"It's good. Helps me keep my mind off things."

He gazed at her then, with eyes that were at once supportive and empathetic and she knew it in her heart that she had nothing to fear from this man. "Ye are too young to have to keep your mind off things, lass."

Her eyes gleamed as her mouth twisted into a wry smile, "No one is too young to know grief, Elmo. Not in this world. Nor any other."

They held each other's eyes as he raised his bottle high, "To surviving that grief and hoping for a brighter future."

As he had managed so many times that night, he made her smile, and Jessica lifted her bottle to tap his, the sound of colliding glass ringing in her ears above the enthusiastic cacophony which filled the room.

"To hope."


	20. Chapter 19 (2015)

Jessica woke the next morning, out of breath and covered in a cold sweat, trembling in the aftermath of a horrific nightmare which she could not remember. Holding her head, she sat on the edge of the thin straw bed and tried to calm her pounding heart.

She tasted wine on her breath, though not enough to cause her concern. She had not gotten drunk last night. But Elmo had. Remembering her new acquaintance gave her focus, and as the last memories of her nightmare was lost in her subconscious, she rose and prepared herself for the day.

Jessica had taken advantage of Elmo's drunken generosity, and by his coin she had set herself in a room of the inn for the night. For such a disreputable establishment, the quality of the rooms was not entirely abysmal. The morning sun streaked through the window and warmed the small, low roofed room, illuminating the dust particles in the stale air. The smell of sweat, urine and sex had become a feature of the room itself, the walls were lined with cracks and a layer of dirt had set on every surface.

She had slept on top of the scratchy pieces of material which apparently passed for covers, after having seen the questionable stains on the mattress itself. The floorboards were equally unclean, and old spills stuck to the soles of her shoes, the sound of soft material peeling away from the sticky substance making her cringe. In all, it had been suitable for a single night's sleep, but she was eager to leave.

Jessica sighed, watching the dust swirl and fly in the currents of the air. Staring at the wall as she adjusted her dress, she couldn't help but worry about Leonardo, who would wake to find that she had not returned.

He would be concerned but would not take immediate action. He would give her some time before he completely freaked out and called for help, but not long. Her determination to find and question La Volpe had faded overnight, and now she was not entirely sure that hunting him down was the greatest idea. Tugging at the ties of her dress and straightening the dark blue ribbon in her hair, she decided to give it two days, after which she would return home and take her chances with her stalkers.

Jessica had honestly expected Elmo to have taken off during the night, so it was a shock to find him, as she descended into the foul stench of the main room of the inn, sitting at a table waving happily at her.

She climbed over upturned tables and stepped gingerly around snoring patrons, many still hugging bottles half-filled with drink, and sat across from him, returning his lively greeting and laughing in amazement at how he had somehow escaped the clutches of a vicious hangover as a result from his binging the night before.

Elmo ordered a large pitcher of water and breakfast for them both, which was served by a bleary-eyed bar maid whose hair was in disarray and her dress stiff with spilt drinks. They choked down the generally burnt meal, and Jessica watched him carefully, re-analysing him in the morning light. Finding him consistently intelligent, relaxed and sincere, she allowed herself to loosen up. He had stayed, apparently fully prepared to fulfil his promise to help her, and in return, she took the risk of putting an ounce of trust in him.

"So I was thinkin'," Elmo said as he paid the last of what he owed to the barkeep and then moved to hold the door for her as they left, hopefully for good, "I've no idea how we would go about finding _you-know-who_. My only thought was that we could go from place to place askin' around."

Jessica nodded silently, breathing in the morning air and watching people mill about as the city wakened. The street still reeked but did not seem as ominous in the light of day though the alley she had been frightened out of was in fact, filthier than she first thought. She chewed on the meat of her cheek as she stared at the cat-sized rodents slinking close to the walls and rustling through rotting crates. She would be glad to get away from this place, she thought, glancing back at the White Heart Inn.

Refocusing on Elmo's low but light-hearted Scottish voice, she turned to the large man who walked beside her, "...we could make ourselves bait in the street, wait till we get robbed and then catch the thief and make him talk."

She blinked at him, briefly noting how his orange freckles glowed in the warm morning sun, and then frowned. "You want to let yourself get robbed?"

"Aye. It's no' a bad plan."

"It's a risky one. What if we lose him and he gets away with your money? And what do you mean, 'make him talk'?"

"Fine," he rolled his eyes amiably, walking close and surprising her as he took her arm and wrapped it around his own. "Never mind that plan, then. We'll ask around. Someone has got to know where the Fox can be found."

The morning and afternoon was spent searching in vain, their inquiries having been simply laughed at or met with stony stares. By early evening, the duo found themselves walking streets that were more familiar to Jessica, and which held host to a significantly fewer number of rats. It had become very clear to them that La Volpe was not a man who would be found if he did not want to be. He was greatly feared and respected and there seemed not a person alive willing to betray his location to anyone.

Silently, Jessica admitted that she was relieved to find that there was very little chance of meeting such a man and hoped that his inexplicable interest in her was insignificant and would prove no more of an issue. A part of her laughed at this hope, but was quickly ignored as Elmo took a quick breath and continued his largely one-sided conversation which had begun shortly after leaving the last tavern.

"...So in all, there's my maw, my da, my sister Jenny and my brother Errol. He's the eldest boy so he spent much o' his time at sea. Da would've verra much liked for me to come along but I was the runt of the brood and that made Maw protective. Many an argument was had about whether or not I was fit to work. My maw won, o' course. No surprise, she was a stubborn woman at the best of times. A smart one, too."

He paused at a stall owned by a stout man with an impressive grey beard, and here she waited patiently as Elmo purchased a sizable array of fruit, a small wheel of cheese and a loaf of bread, placing it all within the satchel at his waist. With a wink at her curious expression, they travelled further along the rows of gradually closing market stalls where a small bottle of cheap wine was also acquired. Elmo took her arm and ignored her questions with a conspicuous grin, leading her out of the marketplace and further through the city, leading her ever closer to the destination he had insisted be kept a secret. Jessica found herself leaning into the heat of his body, enjoying his solid presence at her side and the comfortable way he was holding her arm within his own. She could feel the rumble of his voice through her shoulder as he spoke.

"I dinna think Da ever realised how much his wife knew. She was an educated woman, taught by her own maw, who was taught by her maw and so on. When she was ready to teach her own daughter, she found herself with a son to teach as well. Errol used to tease me about my knowin' of the plants and what they could do, and of the stars in the sky and where they could lead ye. But I think truly, he was jealous. While I spent my days with Maw and Jenny in a the kitchen with the warm smell of fresh bread and herbs in the air, learnin' of poisons and cures, and the how tos of readin' omens and constellations to know what the year, month, and day will bring, Errol was working his fingers to the bone learnin' to catch, scale, gut and sell a fish. He'd come home reekin' of the things. Phaw, I hated that smell. I still canna stand the smell of fish, raw or otherwise. Makes my stomach turn."

A dramatic shudder ran through his body, making Jessica chuckle. Elmo was energetic, his large form seemingly always in motion, with his free hand adjusting his belt or playing with the loose thread on his sleeve, while his eyebrows danced on his face and his blue eyes took in everything around him at once. She felt statuesque in comparison, her stiff, dignified form like ice to his flame and she consciously willed her shoulders to loosen as he took a deep breath and continued.

"Maw never much liked it either. She preferred chicken to all else, rubbed through wi' garlic and spice. Jenny learnt to make it just right but I never managed. Most things that Jenny did turned out just right. My dear sister is smart. Smarter than I, to be sure. She has her faults, o' course; she's proud and vain, and she has a sharp tongue that can sting ye for days after the words have left her mouth. But we were close, Jenny and I. She'd not yet married when I left Rome, and of what I know, she's no plans to. She's no' the romantic sort, like Maw."

His heat was lost to her momentarily as he leant away to pick a small white flower from a lush vine which ascended the side of a building and creeped along the wall, over an archway which led to a darkened courtyard. As they passed this entranceway, which dripped with the green vines, speckled with tiny white flowers, Jessica glanced within and for a moment believed she had seen a man dressed all in white standing scandalously close to a young brunette woman, their heads close and their hands holding tight. Elmo's warmth returned as he took her arm once more, blocking her view of the depths of the courtyard and hurrying her along. She pushed the vision aside, thinking it was too dark for her to have truly seen anyone within.

"I could never understand what made her marry my da. He's a good man but he's naught but a fisherman. Maw used to say that a man's worth was no' measured by the things he could do, but by the number of things he could not. The fewer the number the better, and I suppose the number was low in regard to Da. He was no' educated like my mother, but he was good with his hands and he knew how to protect and provide for her. I canna think of a thing she ever asked of him that he could no' or would no' do. I suppose that's what she liked about him."

The man fell silent so suddenly that the loss of his deep accented voice was almost palpable. Shadows stretched across the cobblestones and the chill of the nighttime began to set over the city. Jessica hugged close to his side as he turned down an alleyway, making a beeline for a rather beaten ladder leaning against the side of the building. Detaching himself from her, he held tight to a wooden rung, set his foot upon it, and began to climb. Swallowing in mild trepidation, Jessica followed slowly, her knuckles white on the wood and her joints stiff even as Elmo heaved her onto the tiled roof of the four story building.

Stretching her fingers, the soft skin sore from the abrasive wood, she brushed herself off, unsteady from the height, and looked around.

To say the view took her breath away would not do it justice. The stone buildings and orange tiled roofs of Florence stretched in every direction, the Arno was like a river of light as the sun gleamed off its surface, weaving through the city. Above, the sky was streaked with pinks and purples, and was layered with deep orange clouds which only darkened as the sun lowered in the sky, the fiery orb turning from a bright yellow to a deep red. Barely able to tear her eyes from the scene, Jessica somehow managed to follow Elmo across the tiles to the flat roof of the building adjoining. There Elmo removed his satchel and lowered himself to the stone, where she joined him with a relieved sigh, rubbing her sore legs and stretching the aching muscles in her shoulders and back.

"When I left my family in Rome and came to live in Firenze, it was my maw that I missed first," Jessica watched in silence as he removed their dinner from the bag and laid it upon a shirt he had found tucked within. He didn't look at her as he did so, and she recognised the strain in his voice as one of deep concentration to not lose control of one's emotions.

"I missed her voice and her soft leathery hands, and then I missed Jenny and her red hair and the drawings that she left all over the house. And then I missed the house itself; the house I was born in and the house where I grew up and learned all I know. But once I had moved on from missin' all of these things, you know what was left?" He removed the cork from the top of the bottle of wine and waited a moment before taking a gulp. Staring out at the picturesque view, Jessica doubted that he was truly seeing it, so deep within his own mind he seemed to have receded.

"Even after all this time, I still miss my da. Though he wasn't there for most o' my life, and he barely spoke a word to me when he was, it's his face and his presence alone that I find I miss most of all." Another swig of wine was downed and a bitter laugh escaped his mouth, the darkest sound she had yet to hear from the man. "Isn't that ridiculous?"

"No, it's not," was her gentle reply. He sighed into the wind and offered her the bottle of wine. Her fingers wrapped around the cool glass but she didn't take a drink. Cradling it in her lap, Jessica stared sullenly at the sun as it slid lower in the sky. "My dad died when I was young, and even now that I've been separated from my family, it's still him that I miss the most. But it's not just him." Her eyes lowered and she twirled the bottle in her hands. "It's the lost potential, the memories of him at my birthday and at Christmas that don't exist because he doesn't either. It's the hole in my world where he should be but isn't. I think you miss him most because of the fact that you never really knew him."

Elmo said nothing in response, but she saw that her words had struck something deep within him. In thoughtful silence, they sat and shared their meal as the sun kissed the horizon and then was consumed by it.

Looking to see Elmo transfixed by the sight, Jessica admired the speckles of freckles glowing like embers in the pale of his cheeks. She wondered how much she could trust this man as he shuffled closer to her and began to point out the specks of light which grew in the encroaching darkness of the night sky. His hair tickling her forehead, his unclean breath warming her cheek and his shoulder pressed tight against her own, she listened and watched the squared tip of his finger as it travelled from planet to star, tracing constellations and drawing pictures in the sky.

Jessica was slightly uncomfortable with his proximity, thinking of how they would look to an outsider, but pushed the thought aside. She had long desired to have more than just one friend in the world, as wonderful as Leonardo was, and Elmo seemed a perfect candidate. So long as she made sure not to drive him away with her usual distrustful hostility.

Becoming friends with Claudia and Leonardo had been simple in that she was required by consequence to stay with them for long periods of time, which in turn forced them to fall into conversation and develop a relationship. Elmo, however, had no such obligations toward her, and she was surprised at her sudden yearning to have a friend who had chosen to be her friend and who wanted to be around her for the reason that they truly enjoyed her company, and not because she was their sole option. The thought of rejection by this man frightened her more than she cared to admit and she wished that she could be outspoken and confident and funny instead of her neurotic, reserved and cynical self.

The warning tingle in her left palm appeared only moments before the quiet rustle of material reached their ears.

Then again, she thought, staring at the stars for several beats longer as Elmo turned sharply to the intruder, perhaps there's a good purpose for her caution. Perhaps it's what was keeping her alive in such a time as this.

Even so, it was tiring to be so guarded, and it seemed that the path of safety she had chosen was a relatively lonesome one.

"Marietta. It is time for you to return home." The voice, low and filled with barely contained fury raised goosebumps across her arms and sent a shiver through her bones. Elmo felt it and rose slowly to his feet, offering her a hand to help her to her own.

"Hello, Ezio," she sighed drily, cringing at the ethereal form of the White Hood, still and stark against the night sky. His hood was raised and all but his chin was swathed in darkness. There stood an angel of death if she had ever seen one. "What are you doing here?"

"Ye know each other, then?" Elmo was confused, and clearly unsure about whether or not to treat the newcomer as a threat.

She could feel the White Hood's glare upon them. "Who is he?"

She frowned and stepped closer to Elmo, both to show whose side she was on in this conversation and to comfort herself. "A friend," she replied icily, and reiterated, "What are you doing here?"

"Leonardo asked me to find you after you did not return last night. He was worried you had become lost or gotten into trouble. It appears there was no need for his concern." Though the words were not spoken, she flushed angrily at the suggestiveness in his tone which was emphasized by his gesture to their makeshift picnic which admittedly did appear incredibly romantic. For a moment she wondered if it reminded them of their own evening together, where they had laughed and joked and she had felt more at home than she could remember. She shook the memory from her mind at once with the reminder that this was not the man she had philosophized and shared a drink with. This was the murderer.

"It is late. Say goodbye to your… _friend_."

She glowered at the order and seriously considered refusing just for the sake of it, but she supposed it would do no good. With an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes she turned to Elmo who appeared quite confounded about what had just transpired.

"I guess I'll see you later." She smiled to him as his eyebrows sunk low over his blue eyes.

"But wha' about—" He was cut off with a sharp look. He glanced at Ezio and nodded understandingly.

"Find me tomorrow. At Leonardo da Vinci's."

Elmo frowned and stepped closer to her, lowering his voice and asking with heartfelt concern, "Are ye sure about goin' with this man?"

Her lips stretched in a tight smile as her eyebrows rose and she let out a breathy laugh. "No, I'm not. Goodnight, Elmo. Thanks for today."

She stepped away from her golden haired friend, squeezing his arm shortly in farewell. Turning reluctantly with a final glance at the nighttime view of Firenze, she followed the White Hood down the ladder, grinning at the silhouette of Elmo, standing with his face to the heavens and the stars which shone in its dark embrace.

* * *

Awkward, was the correct word to describe walking the darkened streets of Firenze with the White Hood at her side. Though she kept several feet between them, Jessica still felt far too close for comfort to his predatory form. She supposed that in another life the glint of the sword at his hip would have comforted her when walking at this time of night, but as it was, she felt the exact opposite.

Her arms crossed tightly over her chest, her hands rubbing at the bare skin to stave off the damp chill which pervaded the night air, she wondered if the White Hood would ever speak to her again. He had remained silent thus far, and appeared in no mood to converse, though she couldn't say for sure how he was feeling at the moment as his soulful golden eyes were hidden deep within the shadow of his hood.

She thought it best that they didn't speak, for even now, though she was uncomfortable at the sight of his silver blade, and he was a fearsome sight to behold as he prowled in the darkness, a murderer in white, she felt the unmistakable urge to strike up a philosophical or humourous debate like the ones they had shared on that picnic so many months ago. This urge didn't sit well with her, as she had long since decided that he was an immoral fiend and that she hated him, but it was there all the same. She found that she hated him all the more for the fact that she enjoyed talking with him.

"Leonardo was very concerned about you."

She almost tripped on a cobblestone as his richly accented voice reverberated through the empty street. Flushing with embarrassment and a small deal of shame, she refused to look at him as she answered, "I know."

"He cares for you," resounded in the dark a beat later.

She swallowed the guilt in her throat. "I know."

Jessica could almost feel what was coming next.

"Federico cared for you."

The words hung in the air above them like the blade of a guillotine. Her skin heated as her heart quickened uncomfortably in her chest, surging with the chaotic swirl of emotions which filled her stomach and fluttered within her chest.

"As did Claudia and Petruccio and my uncle."

His words were like a dagger twisting deep within her guts. Her teeth clamped hard on her lip as she kept from releasing an inhuman shriek of frustration. As if he knew how his words affected her, he continued with brutal emphasis.

"Everything changed after you left. Federico sleeps fitfully and not for days at a time, rarely leaving his books and barely speaking to anyone. Petruccio's illness returned and he became bedridden several days after you left. Claudia has become ill-tempered and refuses to try and make any new friends—"

"You can't blame all that on me," she snarled.

"And why not?" he snapped, his voice like a whip. Halting in place, he confronted her at last. "When it is you who are to blame?"

She stopped short, turning on him. She didn't know whether she wanted to punch him or vomit in reaction to the news he brought her. "How could I possibly be the reason for Petruccio getting sick? It's not my fault he has a chronic illness. And it's not my fault Claudia is moody, she always has been."

A scornful laugh fell from his lips. "And what of Federico? I suppose it is also not your fault that his heart is broken? That he was left pained and confused and without an answer to his proposal to you?" As he spoke he stalked slowly toward her until she had to raise her chin to look at him. "Tell me how you could possibly be blameless in all of this."

He was close, looming over her and she fought not to take a step back. Glaring up at him, she could feel his enraged pants blowing over her face, and could hear his lungs suck in air through his gritted teeth. Though the shadow shrouded his features, she could now make out the outline of his nose, the curve of his jaw and the burning gold of his eyes.

She flinched from the intensity in his gaze and shook her head at his demand, "He never should've— I was leaving and it was a desperate ploy to get me to stay. Surely he knew what my answer would have been. He shouldn't have asked it at all."

He snarled; a primal sound which made the hairs on her arms stand on end. She could feel the hostility which permeated from him and it didn't take much for his anger to fuel her own.

"He was in love with you! He asked you to marry him so that you would stay and become the part of our family we all felt you already were!"

"Well, I didn't love him! And I'm sorry I didn't make it clearer than I thought I already had!"

"Yes, you should have made it clearer that you did not care for him. Or for any of us, for that matter!"

Jessica's heart was thundering in her ears as her blood seemed to boil within her veins. She had never been screamed at with such passion nor felt such an intense fury in her entire life. She wanted to gouge out his eyes and tear off his skin and rip out her own hair. She wanted to sit on his chest and beat his head in and shake him until he understood why she had run away and why she couldn't explain anything properly. She wanted to curl into a ball and scream until her lungs burst and the world went dark and he would stop shouting at her and she could stop being terrified that any second his retractable blade would spring from his wrist and stab her through her pounding heart.

"That's not what I said! I did care for you! I cared for all of you!"

"Then why did you leave!?"

"Because you're an Assassin!" The intensity of her shriek seemed to tear a hole in her throat, and tears sprang to her eyes as her fingers trembled violently with adrenaline and her head pounded with the beat of a thousand drums. "You, and your uncle and Federico." She coughed when her voice came out as a croak, stepping away from the now silent White Hood.

"I heard you in the gardens that night when Mario told you about your dad. I saw you and the others cheering after you killed Vieri and his men. You were covered in blood and you were all so damn _happy _about it." A long, shuddering breath entered her lungs and she plead with everything she had that she wouldn't start crying. She realised she must have looked a dreadful sight, and she sounded more than a little unhinged but she found the words came tumbling out, burning through her filters like acid, never minding whether or not they were entirely true, or only a version of the truth.

"I didn't leave because I didn't care about you; I left because you weren't the person I thought you were. I can't trust you, or Mario or Federico. I despise what you are. I left because everything about you repels me. I left because I couldn't live in the same house as murderers. I left because I never wanted to see you, your uncle or your brother ever again!"

The force of her final statement soaring from her mouth made her stumble, and as she steadied herself, she felt that the rage had ebbed with her words, leaving a pit of numb exhaustion in the depth of her chest. She found she could hear again, the sound of the drums fading from her mind as the cooling of her blood allowed her to feel the shocking chill of the night air, the bitter taste of bile and blood in her mouth, and the weakness in her muscles.

Gazing steadily at the White Hood, she simply waited. She watched numbly as he raised his gloved right hand and lowered the hood, revealing a slack jaw, downturned lips and eyes filled with more pain than she ever believed she had the power to inflict. For a long time, the two simply shared a miserable gaze. Jessica realised it was much easier to hate someone, to hate him, when he wasn't standing in front of her looking at her with those mournful golden eyes.

"You think that I am wrong for taking revenge on those who have destroyed my family and taken from us all we have known and loved?" His brow was low over his eyes, which glimmered with emotion. His voice was thick and wet and she knew that if he cried, it was very likely that she wouldn't be able to stop herself from at least attempting to comfort him. "They killed my father. They drove us from our home. You believe me a monster for punishing those responsible?" A short, incredulous laugh burst unenthusiastically from him as he gazed at her imploringly. "Can you not understand all I have lost? Why I need to do this?"

It was easier to hate him when he was glaring at her, ignoring her, screaming at her. This was much harder to deal with. Her mind found it difficult to keep the White Hood and Ezio Auditore in the same space. He was a self-confessed murderer. She hated him and everything he did and would continue to do. He was not her ally and he was not her friend.

Yet now, his hood was down and he had revealed to her his face and the golden doorways into his mind, which flickered with his incredibly profound emotions. Why did she not simply storm away and order him to never come near her again? Why was it that the slump in his shoulders made her step closer to him? She had finally spoken her thoughts of him, so why did she suddenly want to take them all back?

Swallowing hard, Jessica frowned at the man who had stalked her dreams and filled her darkest terrors, and who she now had the deepest urge to console.

"I understand," she said softly. "Believe me, I do. But killing is not the answer. Are those responsible really the only ones who find themselves on the end of your blade? What about the guards you get out of the way to reach your target? How many husbands, brothers and children have you taken from families just like your own, in the name of your revenge? What makes you think that your right to vengeance is of greater worth than the lives of those innocent men just doing their jobs?"

As Ezio stared at her, she knew her words had hit home. She also knew that they would make very little difference. Ezio was committed to his life as an Assassin, and no amount of guilt-tripping or screaming would change that. She now had to admit that she didn't, or couldn't, hate Ezio Auditore as much as she wished she did. But that wouldn't change anything on her part, either.

Jessica sighed, turned and walked away, hugging herself against the cold dampness of the night.

"I'll find my own way home."

Ezio didn't follow.


	21. Chapter 20 (2015)

_Beams of sunlight streaked from the surface of the ocean, shrouding the underwater city in an ethereal light. Forests of brightly coloured kelp swayed in the currents of the clear, blue ocean. Schools of happy fish laughed and chased each other across the sand. A crab serenaded an eel as a clownfish snuggled up tight in the arms of his anemone, reading the morning paper. Bubbles shining like glass trickled out from beneath rocks and from the lips of the city-dwelling sea creatures, who were all incredibly happy. All was right in the world. Everyone was joyful and loved. The smell of freshly cooked seaweed was in the air and there wasn't an angry face in sight. _

_Jessica grinned and swam through the golden streets of her city, her long hair flowing behind her as her smooth, green tail propelled her along, its scales glistening like emeralds. Her arms were long and thin, and her body small and toned. She was a creature of grace and beauty. She smiled regally as a lobster greeted her politely with a tip of his hat, and a jellyfish screamed in delight. She was their queen and she was loved. _

_She laughed gaily, and watched as bubbles bounced from her mouth and drifted up toward the surface which seemed a million miles away. A crowd began to form around her, and she smiled and greeted them delicately, overjoyed by their happiness and by how light and perfect her life was. It was like a dream. _

_A voice called out to her from the crowd, a voice she knew well. A head of golden hair and an orange speckled face popped out from behind an octopus, who huffed pompously. She reached out to him and he took her hand, grinning at her with brown eyes as he pulled her close. She blinked. An icy stone settled within her as she gazed up at the face of her friend which held the eyes of another. The arms around her began to tighten and she immediately struggled against him. She tried to scream to the adoring, cheering crowds around her, but only bubbles escaped her throat. _

_Weak and helpless, her wide eyes stared in horror as the brown of his eyes turned white and the eye began to shrivel and vanish within the sockets. The rot spread, his skin becoming slick and pale as the meat of his cheeks fell away and his tongue rotted within his mouth. His entire form began to deteriorate; his skin turned green, brown and white and began to blister and bloat before falling from the bone in chunks, his hair peeled from the skull and fell, scalp still attached. His clothes became rags, hanging loosely from the skeleton which clung to her with the strength of a man. She tried to scream, to look away from the skull's empty eyes and its grinning teeth but she could do nothing but stare as it pulled her closer and closer, its bony hands poking and squeezing, groping her. _

_Her tail split into two and she was human once more. Her lungs filled with water and her eyes burned in the salt. Her vision blurred. Her brain felt like it was imploding. She screamed and screamed until her lungs were empty and she gaped, her mouth opening and closing uselessly, as the skull halted a breath away from her face, filling her bleary sight, filling her mind, filling her world._

_"Hello, sweetheart."_

A sound like ringing thunder cracked the silence of the early morning. She forced her eyes wide and wiggled her hands and feet, her mind whirring from the fright of the sudden noise and the terror of the nightmare she had just endured. The enormous, slow clanging continued, a mere beat separating each dong. She cursed under her breath, rubbing her eyes and sitting up, determined not to go back to sleep and back into the arms of the man she had killed.

She stopped herself, standing unsteadily on sleepy legs and forced herself to walk to the other side of the room. The bells of the Duomo continued to ring, no doubt calling the devout to Mass to celebrate Easter Sunday. It was a warm Spring morning, and she couldn't imagine what those finely dressed worshippers were thinking wanting to be out in that heat.

It was a serious effort trying to keep any thought of her nightmare from her mind. She consoled herself firmly, thinking that there was no way that man could have died from a little dunk in the river. Of course he could swim. The very thought that a man could have lost his life as a direct result of her actions was ridiculous. She didn't kill. She knocked her head back against the wall, squeezing her eyes shut, cursing again. She pushed the topic from her mind, but it simply ebbed back, like water in a bath.

She tried to remember why she had pushed him but couldn't. It seemed so long ago now, though in truth it had only been mere days since the incident. Chewing on her cheek, she tried to convince herself that the man had swam to a jetty and climbed out, wet and cold, but otherwise fine. She imagined he had returned to his boss, La Volpe, who would have punished him and then sent him on his way, back to his family and friends and life. She was worried for no reason, she was sure of it. The man, her would-be rapist, Adolfo, was not dead.

He couldn't be.

A heavy weight had settled in her chest, and a dark cloud settled over her, niggling at her every thought and continuously bringing to her mind visions of her dream. She made her bed and swept her room, doing her best to repress it all. Now hot and sweaty, she moved to the small washstand by the door to wash her face when the hairs on the back of her neck suddenly stood on end. A far off rumble steadily grew closer and closer until it was a terrible roar, reverberating through her skull.

It sounded as though Judgement Day was upon them, and God had set his army of angels upon the world. The air crackled as her ears began to pick out individual sounds and she suddenly realised, as she jumped to the window and flung it open wide, that it was in fact the cacophony of ten thousand Florentines fleeing in terror from the direction of the Duomo.

As the stampede grew nearer, Jessica pulled the window quickly shut and turned on her heel, still in her pyjamas with her hair in complete disarray, flying down the stairs intending to lock and bar the front door. So distracted by her fright was she, that she didn't notice the man trembling at the bottom of the stairs until she had quite literally run into him. He gave a shout, jumping away from her and tripping down the stairs onto the floor of the workshop as she squealed and fell back onto the same stairs she had just descended.

Wincing at the pain in her leg and back where she had hit the corner of the stair, she recovered before he did, and stood to stare down at him where he lay like a beetle on his back, his dark blonde hair sticking in every direction and his light blue eyes wide in surprise and pain. He groaned as he stared up at the roof, apparently too confused at what had just transpired to move.

She cursed as she recognised him, hurrying down to kneel at his side and check him for injuries. "Oh my god, Leo, I'm so sorry! Are you alright?"

He blinked at her dazedly and then shot up like a light. "Where the hell have you been?!" he demanded of her, before holding his head in his hands and groaning. She gingerly felt the back of his head for any wounds, but was hardly comforted when she found none.

"How are you feeling?" she asked him serious in her concern and feeling even sicker than she previously had. She manually turned his head toward her and checked his pupils, covering his eyes with a hand and then exposing them to the light to ensure all was in order.

"I don't understand why you insist on doing this to me. I'm not a young man, you know."

"You're 26."

"Do you like upsetting me? How do you think it makes me feel when you just storm out and disappear for two days? I had no idea where you were! You could have been dead in the Arno for all I knew!"

Jessica winced, again working to repress her nightmare. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Three. You couldn't have left a note? You couldn't have told me where you were going?"

"How many days have passed since your birthday?"

"Eleven."

"What did I get you?"

"A flat cake. You used the wrong flour."

She rolled her eyes. "Other than that."

"A very fine hat. Thank you, again."

"You're welcome." She sighed in relief, "Your memory is fine. I think you'll be alright."

"Jessica," he suddenly grasped her hand and fixed her eyes with an intense stare, "Promise me that you will stop running off by yourself and getting into dangerous situations." Letting out an impatient breath she tried to pull away but he held fast. "You are my friend. I care about you very much. I know you believe you are perfectly capable of taking care of yourself but you must know that you do not need to. Let me help you. There is no need to keep so many things to yourself. You are not alone, Jessica."

She deflated, "I know that. I'm sorry."

He let out a long breath and suddenly she was in his arms, tucked beneath his chin as he hugged her tightly. "You are an enigma, _mia carissima. _There are days when I believe there is nothing I do not know about you. You are like a part of my mind which has escaped my head and stepped out into the world to live beside me. During those times we complement each other so well, in both mind and spirit. It is a beautiful and humbling thing.

"But then there are days you are closed off from me. You seem so sad and lost and no matter what I do I cannot get through to you. I cannot show you how deeply you are loved and cared for. You sit in your chair and stare into the fire for hours at a time, barely speaking, or you leave with little warning and do not return until dark. You build such great walls around yourself and hide within them, suffering in silence."

Jessica remained silent, listening to Leonardo da Vinci, her greatest and most trusted friend in her life, take in a shaky breath. She had no idea he noticed so much. She had no idea she had been so obvious in her weakest moments.

"You are so busy filling your mind with lonely and depressing thoughts that you forget that I am here for you. You can talk to me at any time, you know this. Stop thinking that you are so alone. Stop thinking that this world is against you. You are an intelligent young woman, Jessica Raso. You deserve to be happy, but first you must allow yourself happiness."

An eclipse of moths ate away at her insides, fluttering through her stomach and nibbling at her intestines, she sighed into his shoulder and smiled sadly, her arms wrapped around his middle. "You're an amazing man, Leonardo. And a fantastic friend. But you have no idea what you're talking about."

She expected him to argue. As he pulled back from her, she steeled her heart and readied herself for a heated discussion, but instead he took her face gently between her hands and stared at her with his beautiful, deep blue eyes. "Then explain."

Blinking at him, she tried to speak but didn't know what to say. At that moment there was a frightening pounding upon the front door and the two friends jumped and clung to each other, their wide eyes gazing at the dark wood in trepidation. Seemingly frozen in fright, Jessica found she could not move even as the pounding continued. The terrible roar continued, the thin glass windows barring no sound from the streets. There was then a noise above it all which tore her from the safety of Leonardo's arms and sent her running to open the door to the chaos which the city had descended into.

"Marietta! It's Elmo! Please, open the door!"

He was still knocking when she released the lock and swung the heavy door inward, and their eyes met at once. One arm was raised, his fist closed and his knuckles red from hitting the unrelenting wood, while the other was tightly wrapped around his midsection. And it was red with his own blood.

"Oh my god!" she gasped, catching him as he stumbled forward into her. "Leo!"

Elmo's breaths were pained and his body was hot and heavy upon her own. As she steadied him, she felt her hand slide across his skin, slick with sweat and blood. The hot liquid soaked immediately into the material of her nightdress, sticking unpleasantly to the flesh of her torso beneath. His weight was eased from her as Leonardo took his arm and threw it over his shoulders, supporting Elmo's weak body entirely.

"I have him. Clear one of the benches and fetch some rags and water. Then stoke the fire and fetch something to cauterise the wound."

"Cauterise it?"

"He is losing blood. Quickly!"

She frowned as she hurried over to the workbench closest to the fireplace and swept an arm across it, uncaringly pushing everything upon it to the ground. In the kitchen, she retrieved all that he asked for with the exception of the cauterisation instruments, instead hunting down a long, curved needle and a length of thread, along with some alcohol to sterilise it with. Trying to ignore the red on her hands, she returned to the workshop and found Leo had placed the groaning Elmo onto the table, resting his head on a folded blanket from her chair. She presented the rags and water to him as he finished cutting Elmo's bloodied shirt from his body, revealing his broad shoulders and chest, and the fresh purple and black bruises which decorated them.

She took it from him, wiping her hands to clean them of blood and turning to throw it aside. As she did, she realised they had left the door open and so ran to close, lock and after a thought, bar it. From the quick glimpse she had had of the street, she knew they wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon. Returning to the wounded Elmo, she took a clean wet rag and wiped it across his heated brow, pushing back his golden curls and inspecting the bruises across his jaw and cheek, and cleaning away the blood which trickled slowly from his left nostril. At her gentle ministrations, his tightly closed eyes opened and after a moment, focussed upon her in recognition.

"Marietta," he croaked and then coughed, his face contorting in pain, his expressive eyebrows twisted low over his blue eyes.

"It's alright. You're safe here. Leonardo will take care of you."

"The Pazzi... at High Mass... they killed Giuliano Medici."

"_Mio dio," _Leo gasped, wide blue eyes meeting her own for a moment. She saw fear there, and uncertainty. His long fingers shook unsteadily, coated in shining red. She knew he was no doctor, but if there was anyone she trusted to do this right, it was Leonardo da Vinci.

Fixing his gaze, she gave him a short, steady nod and watched him draw strength from her composed assuredness in his ability to save her new friend's life. With much of the blood cleared around the wound which was situated just to the left of his bellybutton, Jessica saw it was rather small but obviously deep, and a thick, dark red stream oozed from the corner and down the side of his body onto the table.

"The people panicked and fled... The Medici and the Pazzi slaughtered each other in th' streets... I got caught by a Pazzi sword... I was no' quick enough." He descended into a coughing fit, which encouraged the flow of blood from his wound and brought upon a fresh bout of agony.

Elmo's right hand rose from the table and hung in the air, and she took it without a thought, glad to bring him any kind of comfort. His hand squeezed hers and he shot her a grateful smile before Leonardo did something which made his eyes roll back in pain.

The roar had quietened but was now replaced by the sounds of battle; the shouts of men and the clanging of metal. Jessica, despite her calm appearance and her steady gaze, felt her knees weaken and her stomach tighten in fear. Adrenaline thrummed through her body as she explained to the aggravated Leonardo that cauterising the wound was not, in fact, a better option to simply stitching it up and wrapping it tight.

When Elmo spoke up in support of her plan not to shove a burning hot poker into the depths of his stomach to seal the blood vessels, giving him second to third degree burns in the process and undoubtedly increasing the chance of infection dramatically, Leo could only grumble and get to work. Watching carefully that he properly sterilise the needle, Jessica thanked her years of TV shows, movies and books which provided information to her that she never believed in a million years she would ever need.

As Leonardo stitched up her friend's flesh, Jessica moved through their home, barring the backdoor as tightly as the front, and covering each window with material to hide their presence within. Though it had been such a short amount of time, already the streets outside looked anything but familiar to her. Hundreds of people clamoured across the cobblestones, holding one another and screaming as they fought to make their way to the safety of their homes while men in shining uniforms splattered with blood stormed through them in packs, hunting down similar packs of men who belonged to the opposite family.

By the time she was done, Elmo was sleeping peacefully on the table, the hole in his side closed for good. Leonardo stoked the fire, now their only source of light in the unusually dark room. She fetched a clean bucket of water, washing her hands of her friend's blood and then suggested the clearly shaken Leonardo do the same. Instructing him firmly to change out of his bloodied nightclothes, she gathered the mass of bloodied rags and deposited them in the backroom which was now thankfully free of fresh corpses.

Using the remaining rags, she cleaned the table around Elmo, and then went to work washing the grazes and bruises which were scattered across his torso, no doubt from being thrashed about in the stampede fleeing the Duomo.

When Leonardo returned she had covered Elmo with a blanket. She changed, choosing to simply throw her nightdress into a corner in disgust, intending to throw it out or even burn it later. And then she sat beside Leonardo in front of the fire, in their respective armchairs, and she couldn't speak the horror she felt at the deaths of so many, right outside their front door. She felt like a hypocrite even thinking the words. So they sat silently and listened as Florence burned.

* * *

Days passed with little change. Elmo awoke and was well enough to sit in her chair and talk quietly with them for ever lengthening periods of time. She formally introduced her two male friends and they got along very well, which she was glad to find. Both of intelligent, quick minds, they shared easy, light-hearted conversations as they slowly got to know one another. Elmo spent much of the time reading any book which caught his interest, while the impatient and restless Leonardo insisted that he continued his work. However, with his assistants unavailable to assist him, for obvious reasons, that left only Jessica to pick up the slack.

And so she was put to work mixing paints, preparing clay, making new canvases, sorting notes, researching whatever it was he _needed _to know at any particular moment and after everything, cleaning up at the end of the day. She supposed he made up for it with his ability to create decent meals with the limited amount of rations she had allocated for him each meal, but as each hour passed that she was left hammering another nail or scrubbing another palette, she felt her patience grow thinner and thinner as she grew increasingly stressed and exhausted.

She was paranoid that their building would be the next to be pillaged and burned, and that they would all be murdered in their sleep, and it was absolutely infuriating to her to find that Leo shared none of her concerns, and instead he actually encouraged her to remove the covers over the windows and move the furniture she had pushed against the door, away from it. By the end of the week, he had worn her down; the room was filled with light once more, and the front door remained barred but barricaded no longer.

In the early afternoon, Jessica stood at the bookshelf, re-organising the books yet again as she listened to Elmo read to her from a book she had found at the back of a particularly disorganised shelf. He suddenly stopped. "Huh. I just remembered where I'd heard Leonardo's name before. It was around th' same time last year. Da Vinci and several others were arrested," he said thoughtfully, his accent as thick as ever.

Losing immediate interest in her task, she turned on him in disbelief, "What? What for?"

He looked about cautiously for Leonardo, wincing slightly as he overextended his still tender side, and then leaned toward her and spoke with a low voice, "Sodomy."

"_What?_"

"Apparently there was a _prostitute_ involved," he chuckled slyly.

Jessica stared in astonishment, trying to imagine the young-hearted and childishly spirited Leo engaging in such adult activities and found she could not, until said man suddenly stepped into the workshop and stared at them with sparkling eyes and a cheeky smile.

"His name was Jacopo Saltarelli," he said, staring at the two who shrivelled in shame for being caught gossiping. "And they could not prove a thing."

Her jaw dropped and she almost fell over as he sent her a conspicuous wink and then disappeared upstairs, back to the study from whence he came. She looked to Elmo for comfort in the wake of this earth-shattering revelation which revealed an entirely new side of her friend, but the injured man was coughing with laughter, holding his side as he stared at her gobsmacked expression.

Closing her mouth, she glared at him before shaking her head and returning to her work. Sometime later, she and Leonardo leant over early sketches and notes concerning a commission he had received some time before all the chaos had begun; a painting depicting the Adoration of the Shepherds.

Having recently finished a portrait of the noblewoman Genevra de Benci, which sat complete in a corner by the door, covered with a white sheet, finally dry and ready to deliver to the lady, by Jessica, no doubt, as Leonardo had had several rather unpleasant conversations with the sixteen year old about how long it was taking to complete. Jessica was rather impressed he had finished it at all, as she had learned quickly that though her friend was very talented – of course, he being Leonardo da Vinci this was no surprise – he wasn't incredibly motivated to finish a product when it came to the laborious task of producing that which he had planned on paper.

His motivation appeared to be running on exactly zero at the thought of having to plan and complete any work for a religious group, religion being one of the areas he was least interested in. With bags under her scratchy, tired eyes, Jessica stood shoulder to shoulder with her friend, who had asked for help in planning what the painting would actually consist of, but who was now being anything but cooperative, shooting down her every suggestion while not having offering of his own.

Dangerously close to losing it; a scathing comment on the tip of her tongue and her fingers close to snapping the quill in her hand, there was an unexpected knock upon the front door. Her muscles tightened and she placed the quill silently upon the table, worried that their luck was up and the soldiers were coming for them at last. Leonardo, however, rolled her eyes at her, "Answer the door, please."

Narrowing her eyes at his order, done with hearing that particular tone directed at her and done with the cabin fever which plagued her, she glanced at Elmo, still in her chair with a book in his hand, and then moved to the door.

"Who is it?" she inquired.

"Ezio Auditore," came the short reply.

Her stomach sank as she let out a quiet groan, leaning her forehead against the door which was all that separated her from her worst nightmare. The man her heart wouldn't let her hate. She didn't want to let him in.

"Who is it?" Leonardo asked her, still engrossed in the predicament of his difficult commission.

"It's Ezio." She sighed, "...of course."

"Well, let him in!"

Reluctantly, she removed the heavy wood which barred the door, and then unlocked it, swinging it open just enough to meet the eyes of the White Hood, the gold darkened by the shadow of his hood. His lips were tight as he met her narrowed and suspicious gaze. The memory of their conversation a week past weighed heavily above them. She didn't move to let him pass.

"Marietta, let him through!" Leonardo called, exasperated.

With a petulant breath, she stepped back, holding the door as the tense-shouldered man swept past her in a gust of man-sweat. His robes looked strangely white considering the week he must have had. She had no doubt in her mind that he had been centrally involved in the efforts against the Pazzi. What exactly those efforts entailed, she hardly wanted to know.

Closing the door firmly behind him, she stood on the landing and watched Ezio lower his hood and greet Leonardo, before catching sight of Elmo sitting nonchalantly in her chair, the chair Ezio usually liked to occupy. A fact which infuriated her. She descended slowly, a scowl upon her face, as the two men stared at each other with obvious hostility.

Leonardo, missing nothing, nervously wrung his hands, "Ah, Ezio, this is Elmo. He—"

"We've met," was Ezio's short reply. The atmosphere in the room grew heavy and she could almost taste the testosterone in the air. Elmo's frame tensed as he took the armrests and began to ease himself to his feet, no doubt intending to confront the hostile man before him, but the action only served to rile Jessica, her tired mind suddenly filling with anger at their childishness.

"Don't you _dare_ get up, Elmo," she snapped, arriving on their level and storming over to them. "And Ezio," she turned on him and poking him hard in the chest, "you leave him alone. He has more right to be here than you do."

Her sharp tone halted Elmo, who relaxed back into her chair and smiled with a roll of his eyes, used to her by now, while Ezio, her finger still embedded in the many folds of his shirt, raised his eyebrows in surprise. Before he could react, Leo jumped forward and swatted her hand away, gathering her up and moving her away from the man, very much wanting to avoid a confrontation between his two closest friends. She shrugged him off and glowered as he threw up his hands and shooed her away, "_Donna irritabile!_"

He took Ezio's shoulder apologetically, leading the younger man away. Mumbling underneath her breath, Jessica fell into Leonardo's armchair beside Elmo.

"So I was right in thinkin' ye two aren't exactly friends?"

She sighed, rubbing her eyes, "I've got nothing to say, Elmo. I'm too tired to deal with him right now."

"Da Vinci's been working ye to th' bone. I could help—"

"You've got a hole in your side."

"I've had worse," he lied.

She stared hard at him for a long moment, eyebrows raised in disbelief before shaking her head and gazing into the fire, feeling her sore muscles and her raw fingertips.

"I am leaving Firenze," she heard as she watched the flames dance in the hearth.

"So soon? I see. Thank you for coming to say goodbye."

"Here, I have another Codex page for you."

"Oh, how exciting! May I see it?"

"Of course."

Jessica winced and massaged her left palm, which had flared at the mention of another page. She had no interest in seeing another, not after what she had seen last time. It was too weird.

"Hmm, this may take some time. Stay for lunch, Ezio, won't you? Marietta, please fetch some wine and cakes for our guest."

"There isn't any cake left. Elmo ate it all."

"I did no'," came the mumble.

She ignored the lie, leaning around the chair to speak to Leo, "We've got pasta, cheese and onions, but that's all that's left of the rations."

"I see. Well, make yourself at home, my friend. I will not be long."

As Leonardo, the only cook in the house moved toward the kitchen to whip up a quick meal, Ezio spluttered, "You? Is Marietta not your assistant? And a woman?"

Before she could snap at confused eighteen-year-old, Elmo laughed out loud. "Marietta canno' cook," he informed him with great amusement.

Ezio blinked at her as she reached over and punched Elmo's arm as hard as she could. He swatted her away, chuckling as she crossed her arms and pointedly ignored them both.

Hours later, Ezio had taken his leave and Leonardo was hard at work on a new murder weapon for the Assassin, grateful to work on something other than his commission. Jessica had made the decision to finally unbar and unlock the front door, peeking outside as Ezio left and finding the street clear of bodies, fire and blood. The citizens of Firenze were hard at work rebuilding their battered city and burying their dead.

* * *

In the days which followed, Leonardo's assistants slowly trickled in, returning to their duties and freeing Jessica at last. As she spent time relaxing, Elmo had recovered well, but now she and Leonardo had found that the man was remarkably difficult to get rid of. They allowed him to spend his days in the workshop on the condition that he assisted wherever he could, and both were surprised to find that he took to it well. He certainly didn't look the type to spend his days inside working with paints and old books, but considering the stories he had told her of his childhood, she supposed that this was where he felt most comfortable; where he belonged.

The warm spring days were a welcome reprieve from the biting winter months, and Jessica was determined to spend as many as possible outside, so she took it upon herself to personally overlook the re-stocking of food, wine, paints, wood, clay, and anything else Leonardo required at any time of the day. Though the city bloomed, it was also scarred, and she frequently overheard disturbing tales of what exactly had transpired only the week prior.

The Pazzi's plot to overthrow the Medici had failed, badly. The mobs they had apparently been counting on to rise against the Medici alongside them, instead hunted and killed every Pazzi sympathiser they could find. Francesco, Jacopo and Renato Pazzi, as well as Archbishop Salviati had been hanged, and the remaining members of the Pazzi family had been either killed or exiled; their goods confiscated, their coats-of-arms demolished and their names banished from all official documents. She also heard that the Pope had actually declared war on the city as a result of all the chaos. Jessica was no politician, but she thought that if she was the mayor, or Magnifico, or whatever it was they called the guy who ran Florence, she would be on her knees grovelling to the Pope, who was no doubt more influential and powerful in this time than he would ever be in her own.

It was a dark time for the city; the people mourned their friends, their families, and for Giuliano de' Medici, the Magnifico's brother who had been killed on Easter Sunday, at the Duomo. Many wore black, others wept openly in the streets and the rest went on with their lives as if a week of soldiers fighting, and mobs of bloodthirsty people lynching, torturing, and otherwise killing people in the street was an unremarkable occurrence. Though she was eager to get out of the house, it was hardly worth the gut-wrenching grief and horror she felt as she walked the battle-scarred streets.

The guilt she suffered only worsened as the days passed, and became irrational as she began to wonder if she could have done something to save some of those who had lost their lives, or to calm the mobs before they could do too much damage. Her remorse was like a sickness in her; the taste of bile would not pass, her hands trembled, she experienced terrible migraines and she lost the ability to sleep almost altogether. These were easier to hide from the incredibly observant Leonardo when she was out, so she spent more and more time away from the workshop, sometimes keeping herself busy doing the most trivial tasks, and other times wandering through the city's streets, searching blindly for the bench she had slept upon that night she had been attacked.

The search became a task in itself, though in truth she believed she knew exactly where the bench was. However, she always looked in an opposite direction, never letting herself wander close. She didn't know why she was fake-searching. She wanted answers and yet she didn't want to know. She was simply wasting time. Convincing herself that she was keeping herself occupied. She wondered if she was finally going mad from the guilt.

She spent a lot of time thinking about what her life had become, writing these thoughts down in her rather full journal, and wondering what the reason could possibly be that she was still here. Whenever she thought the action picked up; whenever the adventure pushed onward, it suddenly stopped and she found herself doing the same thing for months, simply waiting for the next time something would change, seemingly at random and without warning. Was she happy? Was she depressed? Was she merely content? Was she prepared to spend the rest of her life this way?

The Voice had told her she was meant to do something; something which involved the Auditore family, and specifically, Ezio. But now she only saw the man fleetingly. She was terrified of the things he did, and what he was capable of. She didn't want anything to do with him. But was she making a mistake? Is this what she was supposed to be doing –spending her days as assistant to Leonardo da Vinci, cleaning and supplying and helping out? Perhaps she was supposed to be doing something else, something important. Or maybe something selfish – was she supposed to be searching all over for a way home? Was this a waiting game, or was it all truly pointless?

Jessica sat in her chair, the workshop empty and the house quiet at the midnight hour. She was too exhausted to think anymore. Two years and she still lacked even the simplest answers to the questions she had. Would she live the rest of her life in ignorance in regards to her purpose here? Closing her now completely full journal, she stared for a while at its cover before she threw it into the flames and watched it burn. Like always, all she could do was wait.

/

Jessica Raso strolled the streets of Florence on a warm, spring day in May, humming to herself and in uncommonly high spirits. She was returning from the home of Ginevra de' Benci who had welcomed her like the oldest of friends when she saw she came to deliver her portrait at last, clearly choosing to forget the memory of their last meeting, which had ended with de' Benci upending a table in the workshop, shouting a colourful array of vulgar adjectives which resulted in Jessica comforting a trembling Leonardo, who hid in the backroom while Elmo respectfully but quite firmly threw the lady out. With a bag heavy with coins hidden well within her skirts, and with the rest of her day free, Jessica decided she wanted something special for dinner that night, and so she made her way through the city to the marketplace, closing her eyes and humming as the sun shone upon her skin, relaxing her every muscle with its warmth.

Her nose was soon filled with the overwhelming scents of perfume, leather, flowers and fruits, and of course the all-encompassing stench of sweat. Taking her shopping list from her skirts, she took up her basket and flowed with the crowds, chatting happily with flushed shop keepers and laughing jovially with other customers as they were jostled rudely about. The city was in good spirits, Leonardo and Elmo were hard at work and she finally had some time to herself. So with a smile at the corner of her mouth as she carried a basket filled with food, paints, various knick-knacks and two rather expensive bottles of wine, Jessica wandered slowly along the path which stretched alongside the river Arno, breathing in the city and admiring the sunny view.

So relaxed was she that she found herself hardly bothered when a white form appeared just further ahead, and she slowed to almost a halt, the Mark burning, as she watched as the large man leant heavily upon the wall which separated the path from the water, his head hung low on his shoulders, looking incredibly unhappy. Wondering how good her chances were of avoiding a confrontation and managing to sneak successfully past him, she sighed deeply at the sparks of guilt which arose within her demanding that she did something to comfort the pitiful young murderer. She rolled her eyes at her own ridiculous way of thinking and took something from her basket, clearing her throat to make herself known.

"Cheese, Ezio?"

She had surprised him, she knew, but he didn't show it as he turned to face her. With his hood down, she watched as his golden eyes stared steadily into her own and then fell to the small offering she held out to him. When he didn't react, she grew uncomfortable and shifted warily on her feet, wondering if this was as bad of an idea as she thought, but at last, with a raised eyebrow, he slowly reached out and took the cut of yellow cheese from her hand.

She couldn't help but chuckle as he looked at the cheese he now held carefully in his grasp with a small measure of suspicion, and she felt his eyes upon her face as she stepped forward to rest the basket on the wall beside him. She took a deep breath of the ripe stench of the Arno and watched the gentle waves travel across the dark surface of the water. She clung to the warmth of the day and the peace which so rarely settled there in her mind, and though she knew the day would not pass as pleasantly as she had hoped, she knew this was something she needed to do.

After a moment, Ezio turned to face the river but stared down at the cheese, playing with it in long, strong fingers. She licked her dry lips, knowing he was waiting for her to say something.

"How is Petruccio?"

She wondered if he would reply to her softly spoken words, and when at last he did, she couldn't decide whether ignorance would have been kinder.

"Bedridden, the last I saw of him. The illness took to him days after you left. At first he complained of being tired, and then his body was sore. We hoped it would pass." He shrugged, silent for a long moment. Jessica's jaw clenched as her face fell and she frowned at the rippling waves.

"With Mother still unresponsive, Federico locking himself away in the workshop and myself and Mario too busy to care for him, Claudia has had to take responsibility. I know she thinks it unfair but even in her moods she doesn't complain."

"...I_ am_ sorry, Ezio."

He sighed loudly, keeping his gaze fixed on the cheese in his hands. "He misses you. They all do." She remained silent and he suddenly stood straight, shaking his head as his voice hardened. "I'm sorry that what I am disgusts you. It's my fault that you left, I know that now. But my father and my family deserve vengeance for the wrongs done to them. I thought you would understand." Her heart skipped a beat as he turned to her, and she took an involuntary step back, holding her basket tightly in front of her with wide eyes as he stared at her with a hard look. "It makes no difference now. As quickly as you put my family back together so did you rip it apart. I will not forget your actions, Marietta. Nor will I forgive you for them."

And with that, Ezio Auditore dropped the cheese she had given him back into her basket, the quick movement making her flinch, and in that moment, he was gone.

Blinking around, she found no trace of the man, and so she shook herself, realising that she really shouldn't have expected anything else. Looking down at the cheese he had held so thoughtfully, Jessica glowered and gingerly reached out to take it between the very tips of her thumb and forefinger, holding it for the barest of moments before flinging it over the wall and watching it plop loudly into the water, sinking quickly below the dark surface.

With a huff of contempt, and taking satisfaction in knowing at last where she stood with Ezio Auditore, the White Hood, Jessica squared her shoulders and held her chin high as she continued on her way.


	22. Chapter 21 (2016)

"_Venice is like eating an entire box of chocolate liqueurs in one go." – Truman Capote_

"_Per amor scopa che diavolo è sbagliato ora_?!"

"Language."

"_Sta' zitto!"_

Elmo chuckled as he carried another wooden box up the gangplank and onto the ship. Ignoring him, Jessica Raso made her way to their artistic friend, who was now beside himself over the fact that he believed he had left yet another something or other behind in Florence, and was now moaning that there was no way he could go without it. He was weaving around the boxes and bags, getting in the deckhands' way, and all around making a nuisance of himself.

Having spent the last four days making a two day journey through the snow with the man only to arrive in Ravenna; a dirty, overcrowded, icy marshland where every tree she saw was dead and everything was varying shades of grey, even the snow, Jessica was more than eager to get on this stupid ship and go.

She had been over the moon when Leonardo had been commissioned by a noble to paint his family's portraits several days before Christmas, and all the more when he had said the noble was paying to move the entire workshop to Venice. She was nervous, of course, such a big change was always nerve-wracking, but Leonardo was more excited than she had ever seen him, and she had to admit that she couldn't think of anything she'd like more than to see the City of Romance.

There had been no discussion as to whether Elmo would be coming with them; he had simply arrived with a bag of his belongings and got to work helping them place everything they owned into the back of a wagon which had wheels as tall as Jessica's shoulder.

Leaving the workshop was markedly harder this time and Leonardo had squeezed her shoulders tight as she found herself blinking back tears as the door swung shut with a final thud. She had said a silent goodbye to her room, the kitchen and the bathroom and the workshop and then the front door, and the building and then every building she passed; even the gallows got a solemn glance.

They had ridden through the gates of Florence with Jessica sitting on the hard wagon seat with Elmo on her right and Leonardo on her left, staring at the backs of the horses pulling them along, and she had thought of Sebastian, who she had sold long ago, and she had thought of how much she loved the workshop and her life in Florence, and as she turned to say goodbye to city, she had found that it was too late; they had rounded the corner and the city was out of sight. And so she had buried her face in her hands and had a good cry, much to the horror of the men beside her.

And now she stood, her entire body dirty and her feet and hem of her dress cold and wet with black snow, in front of her best friend who she was about to go on the adventure of a lifetime with and all she could think of was punting him off the side of the dock and into the blue-black water below. She spoke tightly to him through gritted teeth, trying to be calm and supportive, but every word he spoke made the frustration in her boil that little bit hotter. She knew that Leonardo could see that his fretting was annoying her, but he clearly couldn't help himself; he was just overexcited, and there was little she could do to manage him in this state, but still she tried and he appreciated her patience.

She was trying to convince him that he had most certainly packed a certain book on astronomy, as well as his favourite ink collection, and that all he really needed to do was keep out of everyone's way, when a feminine scream suddenly tore through the chilly winter air.

"_Bastardo! _What do you think you're doing! Come back here!"

Their heated conversation faded as they spotted a pale-skinned woman in a rich, dark dress seemingly trapped on a small stretch of land surrounded by water, just to the side of the dock. With a nudge, Leonardo brought her attention to a disgruntled but darkly pleased middle-aged man sitting in a small gondola, paddling away from the woman who had become remarkably colourful in voicing her displeasure with him.

"Her husband?" Jessica wondered, standing close to him and crossing her arms over her chest, a sly grin playing at the corner of her lips.

Leonardo chuckled, meeting her grin with an eyebrow raised in amusement, "Undoubtedly."

As they watched the husband disappear around the bend, whistling to himself as he went, the woman's anger turned to near hysteria when she discovered that she was well and truly stranded on the small island. She turned to the people on the docks, waving her arms and screaming, "Don't just stand there! I need help!"

Jessica felt bad for laughing, and though Leonardo was hiding a smile, he hit her arm and chastised her for it as the woman continued to make a fuss. If she were in any actual danger, Jessica wouldn't have thought twice about making an effort to help her, but as the woman's cries turned to threats, she found herself much less inclined to do anything to help the woman who Leonardo had identified as Caterina Sforza, wife of the Lord of Forli.

A call from Elmo drew her away from the sight and she moved to help place the last few boxes on the ship, bringing them up the gangplank and handing them to Elmo, who handed them to a deckhand who placed them securely in the hold. Stretching a sore muscle in her shoulder and taking a deep breath as she stared out at the open sea, she acknowledged that this was the last time she would stand on solid ground for some time. She jumped as the captain called, "_Tutti a bordo! Fra po cosi salpa!"_

She felt that familiar curl of excitement in her stomach as a salty wind blew across her face. She could taste the sea on her lips, and she could feel it on her skin, and in her hair. Jessica hadn't seen the ocean in such a long time, and though it certainly wasn't the sandy white beaches of her home, if she closed her eyes she could almost imagine it to be. It had been so long, the thought no longer sent sharp pangs of longing and grief through her entire being, but instead a dull bittersweet sadness throbbed in the depths of her chest.

With a content sigh, knowing that at last all that was left to do was go to Venice with her two favourite people in the world, she looked about for them and saw that they were in conversation with someone further down the dock. So familiar she was with the two, she could read their body language, even from this angle, through the sparse crowd of sailors and the few fellow passengers, and she saw that while Leonardo appeared quite happy with this newcomer, Elmo most certainly was not. Eager to get underway, she nodded to a crewmember as he passed her with a holey smile, and went over to them just as the stranger turned and disappeared, walking away down the dock.

"Come on, it's time to go," she said lightly as she came to stand between them. Her smile dimmed as they turned to look at her in a steady silence. "What is it?"

Leonardo smiled nervously at her, adjusting his red hat, "Well, you see, we just happened to bump into him."

She frowned, reading his face like a book and not liking what she saw there. "Who?"

Elmo glanced at Leonardo and then shook his head, his eyebrows low over his blue eyes, looking grim, "No one ye'll be glad t' see."

Disturbed by their skirting of the topic, she was put off by the captain asking to see their passes into Venice, which Jessica produced from her skirts. As the captain handed them back, seeing they were all in order, a voice suddenly cut through the air.

"You there! Are you the captain of this scrapheap? We need to talk."

The man's face went pale as they turned to see that the screaming woman had somehow found her way back to land and was now descending upon the captain like a lion on its prey. The woman was beautiful, with auburn bangs framing her face, clear blue eyes and a beauty mark on her right cheek. Jessica was fixed with those eyes, in a look with both appraised and dismissed her in the same moment. Unimpressed, Jessica stared back defiantly, but moved away to let the woman yell at the now quivering man. No matter how rough the language she was currently unleashing upon the captain, she was the Lady of Forli, and Jessica had no intention of going head to head with a noble. Having moved further back in the direction of the ship once more, Jessica glanced back at the loud conversation behind her, and in her carelessness, she felt herself connect quite suddenly with a warm, hard body.

Jumping away as she stammered an apology, her face glowing with embarrassment, Jessica looked about and found herself staring into warm, golden eyes. Blinking at what must surely be a hallucination of some kind; she let her eyes sweep over his form, taking in the darkened skin, the defined nose and jaw, and the creases in the space between his brows. He seemed taller, wider, and somehow _more _than he once was. But though he had grown older and harder, no longer a young man but now a fully fledged adult, he was still Ezio Auditore. And for some godforsaken reason he was standing in front of her, and the woman behind her was screaming about the captain of their ship giving him a pass to Venice.

Jessica felt herself deflate as the Mark burned her palm, and without a word she moved out of the White Hood's shadow and slunk over to where Elmo stood watching her with a sympathetic look. She shook her head, a hand on her forehead as she took deep breaths and wondered why she was even surprised. Of course he would be here. Of course, after two years of nothing, she would bump into him trying to gain passage on the same ship. Stunned into silence, she allowed Elmo to lead her up the gangplank and onto the ship, closely followed by a giddy Leonardo. The artist joined his companions at the side of the ship, where they leant on the railing and stared out at the wet mess that was Forli.

"Did you know he was coming?" Jessica demanded of him.

He raised his hands. "I swear to you, I did not."

Unable to doubt his honesty, knowing him too well and thus being able to easily detect the truth in his face and tone, Jessica sighed as her eyes drifted reluctantly to the large white form, grudgingly admiring the rich embroidery of his tunic, enjoying the stark contrast of the red against the white, especially the sash around his waist, held tightly by the golden belt in the design of the Assassin's emblem. The cape on his left shoulder, as well as his gloves, pants and boots were all black, and left him looking more dangerous than ever. Jessica wondered why any guard would let him enter their city; it was obvious he was up to no good, though what business he had in Venice, she had no idea. She groaned, dropping her head as she leant heavily on the wooden banister. It had been two long, wonderful years and she had let herself hope... Well, it didn't matter now.

"That lass certainly has a mouth on her."

Jessica was grateful for Elmo's accented voice as it shook her out of her lingering thoughts. Clearing her throat, she blinked and straightened, rolling her shoulders and forcing herself to look at anything but the Assassin. Her eyes settled on her friend's face, his blue eyes gleaming beneath long, expressive brows. His blonde hair was thick and curly and was now long enough that it covered his ears and the majority of his forehead. She had tried to have him cut it but he had protested, claiming he needed the extra warmth.

It was a cold winter, colder than last year for sure, though that hadn't stopped them from making full use of the snow in the courtyard next to the workshop, much to Leonardo's chagrin. In fact, Jessica had developed a tickle in the back of her throat which had developed into a sniffle which she was sure was forming into a full cold; she was doing her best to keep it secret, knowing that Leonardo would lose his mind if he knew.

"Yeah," she chuckled in reply. "She's almost as bad as you."

He hummed thoughtfully. "What was that ye were saying not too long ago? I seem to recall something about hell and fuc—"

"How dare you!" She slapped his arm. "I would never speak such filth."

"Yes, ye would." He laughed, poking her side. "And ye'd lie about it too."

Their banter was cut short as the woman moved off down the dock, and the captain followed Ezio up the gangplank, apologising most profusely all the while. The two fell silent as Ezio came to stand beside Leonardo and struck up a conversation about the spirited lady. Jessica and Elmo went to stand at the bow of the ship, talking and laughing quietly as the sails were lifted and the final preparations were made, and at last the ship lurched away from the pier and they were off.

It took little over a week to get to Venice.

New Year was celebrated with a small but enthusiastic celebration on the deck of the ship, and Jessica managed to convince Leonardo to let her out of their quarters, where he had covered her in blankets in her bunk after her cold had reared its ugly head in a fit of sneezing, coughing and never-ending snot. She sat cross-legged on a barrel below the main mast, wrapped up like a burrito as she watched everyone drink and eat and roar with laughter at some joke the captain had made.

Her dark hair was a mess, her nose was red and wet and her skin pale. Her lungs, sore from coughing, burned as she breathed the cold sea air, but it was a pleasant change from the musty, stale smell of the hold. The deck was lit with torches, casting a warm glow across the company, and the skies above twinkled with starlight on this moonless night. The ship rocked gently, anchored as it was, and she couldn't see the dark waters below. It was unnerving, being on a hunk of wood in the middle of the ocean with no land in sight. Though she didn't exactly hate travelling by sea, she would be grateful to arrive at their destination.

She grinned as Elmo stumbled drunkenly into Leo's arms, sending them both to the deck in a heap of giggles as the smaller man's strength failed beneath the weight of the sturdy Scotsman. The sailors had their arms around each other, waving their bottles in the air as they sung a cacophonous sea shanty, ignoring their captain who stood above them and shook with amusement as he spoke with his first mate. They were a jolly bunch and not even the presence of Ezio Auditore amongst them, laughing with the men and accepting Elmo's passive-aggressive arm wrestling challenge, could ruin her time aboard that ship.

She sniffed wetly and then coughed a little, wincing and wishing for a throat lozenge and a cup of chamomile tea. It had been so long since she was sick, so she supposed it was about time. It had been difficult to cope with Leonardo fussing over her and Elmo treating her like a delicate creature on death's doorstep, but she kept in mind that getting sick in these times was significantly more dangerous than in her own. She was glad that there was no doctor they could call on to treat her; she was certainly in no hurry to experience the horror that was medieval medicine. She could only assure them both that she had a strong constitution and just needed rest and that seemed enough to satisfy them.

It was the first day of the year 1481 that they arrived. Though she had promised Leonardo that she would stay in bed, where he, and indeed the vast majority of men onboard remained, still sleeping off last night's festivities, when she heard the captain shouting to his men, she stole out of the hold and stood on deck, gasping at the sight.

Though she had to admit she didn't find it quite as beautiful as Florence – though she may have been biased – it was certainly a sight to behold. Each building was a marvel of its own; every one masterfully created in the now familiar design of Gothic architecture, generally three stories high, with tiled roofs, and arches on every doorway, balcony and window. Each rooftop and dock was sprinkled with the clean white snow which filled the gondolas bobbing in the icy canals, which laced through the labyrinth of buildings, bridges and pathways in a dazzlingly magical confusion of land and water. She watched the morning traffic, men and women of slight built and in rich, dark clothes and thought it odd that she would soon walk among them.

Upon arrival, a small army of servants employed by Counte de Pexaro, the nobleman who was to thank for this adventure, took charge of their things, taking off down the road and disappearing into the crowds with arms full of crates, boxes and heavy sacks. Bleary-eyed and wincing, Elmo stumbled out of their cabin, blinking incomprehensively at the servants as they hurried along like ants, frowning at him as they got in their way. Coughing a laugh, Jessica took a hold of him, entwining her arm through his as she all but skipped down the gangplank and took her first steps upon the flagstone streets of Venice.

"Ah... _La bella Venezia," _Elmo sighed, squinting in the bright morning sun. A thin layer of snow crunched beneath their boots as they wandered around the side of the boat to gaze at the city's silhouette across the lagoon. Jessica sniffed wetly, and she shivered as a cold breeze bit through her clothes.

"It's almost unreal," she said, trying to take it in all at once.

"I didn't expect there to be so much water."

"It's the City on the Water, what did you expect?"

"Not this," he laughed, gesturing to the dark blue stretch before them which disappeared into the distance on both sides. "This is incredible."

"Marietta!" she turned to greet a particularly bedraggled Leonardo with an amused smile as he nearly fell off the gangplank, tripping over a servant in his effort to reach her. Though he was tired and clearly hung-over, he met her amusement with a beaming grin, shaking her shoulder with excitement. "There you are. Can you even believe it? This place is magnificent! This is the _Canal Grande, _and look there! That is the _Ponte di Rialto, _and over there—Hey, Ezio! Over here!"

The small group stood and gaped at the city, pointing and wondering at the sights and people that caught their eye until a slight young Venetian man interrupted their awed discussion, introducing himself as Alvise da Vilandino, and asking them to allow him to escort them to the workshop.

Waving goodbye to the captain, they followed after him, Elmo and Jessica walking close behind Leonardo, who was peppering their escort with questions, and Ezio walked beside him, glancing at the duo over his shoulder, no doubt still wondering if they were courting or not, seeing how comfortable they were in each other's presence. He had been so sure of it after catching them together in the midst of their romantic picnic on the rooftops of Florence, but it seemed odd that a courtship would last for so long. In any case, he pitied Elmo for trusting such a beautiful and treacherous creature as Marietta Sanfilippo. Catching his stare, Jessica held his eyes and challenged herself not to be the first to look away.

She lost this challenge as they came upon the marketplace, a vast and sprawling series of stalls boasting fish, meats, fruits, vegetables, rolls of linen and silk, barrels of pasta and rice, enormous bowls of herbs and spices, flowers of every colour and species, and the scents, noise and vibrant atmosphere served to effectively take her breath away.

A loud shout was heard above the calls of fishermen and sellers, and Jessica saw Ezio's entire form stiffen and become alert in a way which made it exceptionally obvious to every cell in her body that she was in the presence of a predator. Placing a hand on Elmo's arm to steady herself, she followed his line of sight to watch as a ground of soldiers dressed in a dark navy blue suddenly and violently upturned a stall nearby, sending fish and broken wood in every direction. Shouts and screams of fear and protest fell upon deaf ears as the soldiers threatened the stall-owner and any who came near to help him.

Alvise herded them quickly away, and she listened as he answered Ezio's low questions.

"Emilio Barbarigo is attempting to unify the merchants of Venezia under one banner, and there has been some... resistance. Some of it violent." Alvise shook his head in disgust, his eyes as dark as his hair. "They say they are fighting for the people, for freedom, or some such nonsense."

Jessica stared hard at the back of Ezio's head as he nodded thoughtfully and allowed Leonardo to continue his interrogation of the man, not trusting the hard, calculating look in his eyes. She had done her best to avoid him, but on a small, cramped ship it had proven nearly impossible, even with his obvious efforts to avoid her in return. He was good friends with Leonardo, which she understood and accepted as she saw how glad Leo was to converse with him, but the years had done nothing to soften the words spoken between them, nor did she care to soothe the tension. It was better if they just kept away from each other.

She had long ago sent word of apology to Claudia and Petruccio, and even Federico, though only Claudia and Petruccio had written back, and continued to do so on occasion, Claudia apparently keeping herself busy working the books and doing administrative work to figure out how to best go about financing the renovation of the majority of Monteriggioni, while Petruccio, though still weak, had enough strength to keep up his lessons with Federico, as well as take care of their mother, trying to get her to go on short walks through the city and spend as much time with the family and out of her room, as possible. Last Jessica heard Maria had actually spoken to her son, though briefly, and no longer had to be coaxed from her quarters, preferring to sit in the garden and read.

At last they stopped, overwhelmed and exhausted from their long trip, all squinting in the mid-morning glare and trying to shake off the chill of the winter streets. A tall tree, its branches white with snow, loomed above a well in the middle of a small square, lined with gardens with smooth stone benches in between. Alvise had led them to a double storied building of red brick, nestled in the corner of the square, with arched windows and a small alcove with a white door leading into the building on the left.

"And here we are!"Alvise gestured grandly, taking a small ring of keys from his pockets, picking the largest of them out and moving to open the door. "May I present to you, _Ser _da Vinci, your workshop!"

He pushed the door open and stepped aside, gesturing for the artist to enter, which he did most eagerly. Jessica stepped quickly behind him, hurrying through the door after her friend and dragging Elmo behind her.

Jessica stopped short beside a frozen Leonardo, and together they gaped at the room, bare and still smelling of varnish, paint and wood, all indicators of a brand new room. The design, however, was startlingly similar to the workshop in Florence. In fact, as they made their way across the landing and down the few stairs to the workshop floor, gazing about in wonder, other than being slightly longer – and having a rather dauntingly large pile of crates and sacks in the large empty space to the right of the workshop, beside which lay the enormous winged creation that was Leonardo's flying machine – it was _exactly _the same, down to the positioning of the workbenches, and the two comfortable chairs in front of the fire. Their wandering eyes finally landed on each other and they laughed in shock then looked to the grinning Alvise questioningly.

He laughed at the look on their faces, "As you can see, there was no expense spared in its design: it shall be as if you never left Firenze."

"You can say that again..." Jessica mumbled.

Elmo's voice was low over her shoulder, "Please tell me yer findin' this as eerie as I am."

She shot him a look of agreement, and then turned to see Alvise handing over the ring of keys, shaking Leonardo's hand in a most hearty farewell.

"I wish you luck, _messere, _and I hope that you enjoy Venezia as much as she enjoys having you."

When he was gone, the four stood for a moment, looking about in complete silence. At last, Leonardo clapped, the sudden sound echoing through the long, empty room and making even Ezio jump.

"Ah, isn't this exciting! Like a blank canvas overflowing with possibilities! Well, there's no time like the present. Let's start unpacking, shall we?"

"I will leave you to it, Leonardo. I have things I have to do."

Leo turned to Ezio, disappointed but smiling, "I understand. If you ever need anything, or have some spare time, you know where to find us."

"_Grazie, amico."_

The men hugged their farewells before Ezio pulled away, surprised Jessica by nodding politely to her and Elmo and then swept out the door, closing it firmly behind him. The trio were left, Elmo with his arms crossed over his broad chest, Jessica with her hands on her hips, blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes and Leonardo beaming widely at them both. They were all exhausted and wanted nothing more than to curl up on the floor and sleep for a week, but Jessica knew they wouldn't be getting any rest until the workshop was up and running and Leo had all he needed to get started.

"Well," she said with a wet sniffle, "let's get to it."


	23. Chapter 22 (2016)

_"__The best is yet to come." – _Frank Sinatra.

It didn't take long for them to get swept up in the stunning chaos that was Venice.

The sights, the sounds, the smells and the presence of so much water seemingly everywhere they turned was at first overwhelming, but in time they came to know the city and its people. Jessica had never thought about Italians having different accents, but the difference in pronunciation of certain words was quite different from what she was used to in Florence. The clothes worn by the Venetians were darker than the Florentines, who had preferred lighter shades of green, orange and pink, and the hairstyles were impossibly more extravagant. Venice, she learned, consisted of five districts: San Polo, the merchant district – and where Leonardo's Workshop was situated; San Marco, the administrative district, Dorsoduro, the artist district, Castello, the military district, and Cannaregio, the working class district.

It was a beautiful city, filled with countless hidden courtyards and easily missed alleyways which led to streets filled with doors, or bridges whose iron railings had been overtaken by thick green vines. Indeed, there was greenery to be found on every corner and on the sill of every window, far more than Jessica expected to find in a city in which the buildings were built so tightly together. She admired the colours blooming in the gardens, eager to the be the first buds to flower in the slow coming spring; snow still coating the ground well into April, much to the outrage of many a citizen.

Jessica spent her first weeks helping Leonardo in his efforts to employ several young men to assist him, a task which went unusually smoothly, as well as getting herself settled in her new home. She found this also strangely easy. Elmo was given the room next to her own, finally moving in with them and in her mind, becoming an official member of the family, a place he had earned long ago. Three other rooms were situated on the upper level of their home; Leonardo's room –which was already a mess-, a private study –which was brought to use by Elmo, whose passion for astronomy and the concocting of potions had been reignited after he had sent and received letters to and from his family in Rome – and a guest room.

Jessica loved to sit in Elmo's study, observing and listening to the blonde Scot as he explained the uses and dangers of various plants and animal parts, and read the stars and phases of the moon which shone brightly through the large window on the back wall. The room smelled heavily of incense, smoke, and what she suspected was drugs of a more recreational nature, though Elmo would never admit it. As she spent time with her friend, flicking through the books which slowly accumulated on the shelves on either side of the window and gazing in wonder at boiling cauldrons of strange smelling, colourful mixtures, which all ended up packed into vials and jars of various sizes and stored in the enormous locked cabinet which covered the right wall of the study, she began to have a very peculiar inkling that Elmo's mother may very well have been a witch, and that perhaps Elmo was too. The idea wasn't exactly implausible, considering all she had seen and all she knew. In fact, notion that Elmo wasn't entirely normal made her feel closer to him than ever.

Downstairs was the vast space which was the workshop, its walls lined with bookshelves, the floor decorated with rugs, several large wooden tables sitting upon them, and three incredibly comfortable armchairs surrounding a low coffee table just in front of the extravagant fireplace. The kitchen and the toileting and bathing areas, all much larger and of finer make than those found in the workshop in Florence, were through the hallway to the left of the stairs. In all, the place was clean and bright and spacious, and absolutely perfect for their needs. Moving to Venice proved to be like slipping on a glove; it fit them well.

Though Leo had been employed to paint the Conte de Pexaro a total of five family portraits, a commission which would take many months to finish, the artist proved to have very little interest in even starting, preferring to instead focus on the flying machine which had been built and rebuilt time and time again. He began many drawings, paintings and inventions but ultimately they were all left unfinished, as per usual. And so their lives continued.

On a warm day in early summer, Jessica and Elmo went to the Venetian Markets, bitching about a particularly useless assistant as they strolled through the stalls, filling the basket on her arm with provisions for their pantry.

"I swear if tha' idiot confuses poppy seed oil with linseed again, I will kill him."

"Better that he confused one oil with another. I thought Leonardo was going to rip his head off when he gave him water instead of copal."

"I wish he had. I would have gladly disposed o' the body."

"I just don't understand why Leo hasn't dismissed him."

"He probably thinks he's too pretty to be rid of."

"That's still no excuse to put up with such incompetence."

"And yet here _you _are."

She hit him, laughing. "_Stronzo."_

_"_Ah, they don't have it here."

"What?"

"Leonardo asked me to get one o' those small wooden dolls."

"Like the one he broke the day he bought it?"

"The same."

"Well, you go find it and I'll go on ahead," she told him, adjusting her hold on the full but not too heavy basket.

"Are ye sure?"

"Yeah, you catch up when you're done."

"_Va bene. _Take care."

The duo went their separate ways, Elmo disappearing quickly into the thick market crowd as Jessica politely shoved her way out of it before getting her bearings and heading toward home. She hummed to herself as she walked the streets with ever growing confidence, taking satisfaction in the recognition of shops and street corners which she used as landmarks to guide her back to the workshop. The sun was warm in the sky, and the marketplace had been crowded. Jessica wiped at the sweat on her forehead, grimacing as she tasted the salt on her upper lip.

A hand suddenly wrapped around her arm, and Jessica recoiled violently, nearly dropping her basket in her fright, but the hand was strong and it held her steady. Heat pounding in her chest, but assuring herself she was fine as she stood in the middle of a populated street in what was considered a better part of the city, she looked at the offending hand on her arm and was shocked to see that it quite obviously belonged to a woman. Following the arm up, she was met with the delicate features of a young woman with short, dark hair tucked into a grey cap, wearing a dirty white shirt beneath a loose, oversized vest, and pants with bandages wound tightly around her right thigh. The woman tugged at Jessica, forcing her to keep moving, and limping along beside her, leaning heavily upon a crutch. Jessica stared at the strange woman in wary confusion.

"Keep walking," came the rich Venetian accent. "The man behind us is following you. He watched you leave the marketplace and has followed you this far."

Eyes widening, Jessica glanced quickly over her shoulder, but could not see the man the woman was referring to amongst the crowd of strangers. Turning back she slowly relaxed in the woman's hold, allowing her arm to be entwined with hers as they walked together like old friends.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her knuckles white on the handle of the basket.

"My name is Rosa," the woman replied, a calm smile on her face. "And yourself?"

Jessica hesitated before answering. "Marietta."

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Is it nearby?"

"No," she answered, confused and suspicious. She looked over her shoulder once more and tried to pick out the man who was apparently stalking her, half expecting to see a white hood amongst the sea of darkly dressed Venetians.

"_Bene."_

And suddenly they were making a quick turn down a small alleyway, which led to another, and another and very quickly, Jessica found herself completely lost in the labyrinth of Venetian streets, guided only by the woman on her arm, who tugged her firmly along.

"Where are we going?"

"He follows you still. It is dangerous for one with such a pretty face to walk alone."

"This is coming from you."

"You think me pretty?"

Jessica let out a soft laugh in response, for the woman was beautiful, with dark eyes and soft skin. "Not to sound ungrateful," she panted, growing tired from their fast pace across uneven streets and rickety bridges, and dizzy from the many twists and turns, "but why are you helping me?"

"Because you needed me. Women must protect women. Nobody else is going to."

"You don't even know me."

"It is my duty as a woman to look out for you, as it is yours to look out for me. The battle between men and women has been waged since the beginning of time, and it shall continue until the end of days. There are good men in this world, but we must not wait for them to do something if we can do it ourselves. We must stand together or not at all."

This was a very noble speech, one that Jessica agreed wholeheartedly with, but she didn't know this Rosa, and she had absolutely no idea where she was or where the woman was taking her, so needless to say, she had other things on her mind that came before discussing feminist issues with a stranger.

They stopped at last, stepping out onto a main street and slipping into the current of the crowd seamlessly. Rosa looked behind them and let out a noise of satisfaction.

"I believe we lost him. Come, I will walk you home."

Jessica was surprised to see that they were almost in the exact spot they had begun. They walked, arms still linked and Jessica in a sort of daze, through the marketplace and toward the workshop. She thought she should start a conversation with the woman who had potentially saved her life, but Rosa looked content in the silence and Jessica had no idea what to talk about, so in the end she chose to remain quiet.

She released a sigh of relief as they arrived at the familiar white door of her home.

"This is me. Thank you, Rosa." She smiled, still slightly bewildered, as the woman slipped her arm out of her own, stepping away and returning the friendly gesture.

"No need to thank me. Try not to get yourself in too much trouble in the future, eh?"

Jessica laughed and nodded in farewell. And then, blinking, she watched the young woman shoot her a wink then turn and limp away. Staring after her until she disappeared into the crowd, Jessica shook herself, adjusting her grip on her basket and wondering if that had just happened. Shaking her head, she went inside, never forgetting the strange girl who had crossed her path.

In a city in which hundreds of thousands of people lived, it was against all odds that Jessica would come across Rosa again, and yet it was less than a month later that she did just that.

Jessica was sitting in the sun in the square outside her house, driven outside by the presence of Ezio Auditore sitting in her chair by the fire where he had been since early morning, apparently having a day off from causing murder and mayhem. She was bent over her journal, drawing a flower which, against all odds, had bloomed out of a crack in the middle of the path, when the young woman suddenly sat beside her. After a brief moment of shock, Jessica opened her mouth to greet her but before she could make a sound, Rosa had begun to speak.

"I met someone. A man."

Jessica waited a beat. "...Okay?"

Rosa hadn't looked at her, instead leaning against the wall behind them, her cap high on her head as she stared up at the bright blue skies, her crutch leaning against the bench between them. "He's tall and dark and handsome, with the most incredible eyes," she sighed. "He's fast and strong and he saved me. He's a good man. I haven't met many of those."

She fell silent after this and Jessica stared at the short haired woman with silent and somewhat irritated bewilderment for a long while, waiting for her continue. Jessica counted to two hundred and then sighed impatiently, turning back to her drawing. Just as the tip touched the pencil she was interrupted again.

"But he's so _infuriating_. He's beautiful, and he knows it. But his arrogance is alluring. And his hands..." Rosa let out a slow breath, her eyebrows raised as she imagined, what Jessica assumed, was a rather nice pair of hands.

Realising that the woman had no intention of leaving any time soon and that she had no hope of being left to herself, ever, Jessica closed her journal and held it and her pencil on her lap, drawing in a steadying breath and turning her body toward the strange woman who had decided to pour out her heart to her, giving her full attention.

"And he's so tall and big and he makes me feel so wonderfully small, like I could just curl up in his arms and stay there forever."

"Who exactly are you talking about?" Jessica would be the first to admit that she was out of practice when it came to girl talk, not that she had ever been great at it. Claudia had been the last female friend she had had and she had not had a conversation face to face with her for years, and even then she couldn't remember them ever discussing men. She wondered why Rosa had sought her out for this; surely she had her own friends she could talk to? Was this part of the whole 'women look out for women' thing Rosa had declared as her duty? Whatever the reason, the woman had sought her out for a reason and considering how she had looked out for her in the market, it was the least that Jessica could do to lend her an ear, as reluctant as she was to do it.

"A charming man from across the sea."

"Does this charming man have a name?"

Rosa grinned and shook her head. "It is a secret."

Jessica narrowed her eyes at her and chuckled good naturedly, if with a little strain. "Let's call him Steve, then."

"Steve?" Rosa giggled, visibly excited now that Jessica had apparently taken an interest. "Alright. Oh, but you should see him!"

For the next half-hour, Jessica patiently sat and listened to the younger woman gush and rant. Though Rosa was small and relatively young, she had a fiery personality and a passionate soul, and Jessica had no doubt that her every emotion was felt deeply and unreservedly. She rather envied the smooth skin and the silky dark hair, her delicate features and slight form, and especially the way her brown eyes shone with fervour as she spoke of the man who had caught her attention and who was obviously worming his way into her affections. In a simple dark green dress with her long, unruly hair tied messily behind her head while defiant strands fell about her face, Jessica felt rather plain beside the uniquely beautiful and outspoken Rosa.

Having such a lengthy conversation with another member of her sex proved strangely cathartic though it was largely one-sided and at times, exasperatingly repetitive and, surprised as she was at how much she was enjoying their talk, she was thoroughly irritated when they were interrupted by a courier who smiled at her rather disarmingly before handing her an envelope with Claudia's familiar scrawl across the front. As he left, and Jessica stared curiously at the sealed letter in her hands, wondering at the timely coincidence, Rosa stood, and Jessica quickly followed, wondering if she had done something to offend her. But she was startled to suddenly find herself in the smaller girl's tight embrace, and she patted her awkwardly on the back until Rosa freed her with a grin.

"Thank you, Marietta. I needed to get that off my chest. You are a wonderful listener."

Still confused and rather annoyed about the whole thing, she smiled tightly, "Any time."

"I will see you later."

There was a strange heavy feeling in her chest which lingered long after she had sat back down on the bench, sighing to herself as she was finally left to her own company. Jessica nearly forgot about the letter she had received until she reached out to pick up her pencil and realised her lap was already full. Then with eager anticipation she tore it open and drank it in until she came upon a line which shocked her so greatly that she took a quick, unexpected breath and was reduced to a coughing fit as her windpipe was filled with saliva.

Throat stinging and eyes watering, she rushed across the square and flung herself through the pale door, getting a hold of herself as she stood on the landing inside the workshop, wildly waving the letter in the air.

"Marietta, what's wrong?"

At her sudden entrance Ezio had leapt to his feet, his entire form tense and on alert. His white robes had been put aside, and he was left in his black pants and a white shirt with loose sleeves that pulled in at the wrists, beneath an expensively embroidered black vest with dramatic shoulders. His dark hair was held back by a red ribbon, his face clean shaven and now pulled into a dangerous expression as his golden eyes fixed on the door which was presently swinging shut behind her, searching for pursuers.

Usually, Jessica would be both frightened and disgusted by the change in him, and furious at herself for the traitorous thoughts which crossed her mind when she saw how deliciously broad his shoulders were in relation to his waist, and how well his pants fit him. As it was, she saw noticed none of this and, skipping down the stairs and across the workshop floor to stand before them, Jessica thoroughly shocked both men by fixing Ezio Auditore with a stunning grin that made his heart skip a beat and his mind go blank in the moment it took for her to give them the news.

"_What_?" he heard Leonardo ask as he shook himself, forcing his ears to pay attention to her words.

"They're coming for Christmas! They've bought a house and everything!" She beamed with excitement as Ezio's mind tried to register what exactly it was she was telling him. Leonardo made a confused sound behind him.

Staring at the two men before her, Jessica shook her head and made a noise of exasperation before she drew in a deep breath, stared at Ezio with green eyes gleaming with a humour he hadn't seen in years, and with a smile on her lips she told them slowly;

"_The Auditores are coming to Venice_."


	24. Chapter 23 (2016)

_"__One is never too old to yearn." – Italian proverb._

Jessica Raso was an Auditore in all but name.

This was never more obvious than at the moment the ship, a vessel far more grand than the one Jessica had travelled on, docked, the gangplank was lowered and in seconds, Jessica found herself sandwiched between a beautiful young woman and a incredibly tall and lanky young man with dark hair, a round face and deep brown eyes which were achingly familiar. Their hug was a messy one, with limbs and heads wrapped awkwardly around the three bodies, and though Jessica was not a huggy person, she could think of nothing else at that moment than wrapping an arm around each of them and holding them tight.

"Oh, Marietta! It is so good to see you!" Claudia cried, pulling back at last but not releasing her grip on Jessica's arm. "Oh, look at you, you haven't aged a day!"

Jessica grinned, allowing herself to inspect the young woman before her. A noble nose sat between high cheekbones and above soft, pink lips. Her brown eyes were lined with long, dark lashes beneath a delicate brow and her dark hair was held back in her familiar caul while delicate ringlets framed her smooth face. Her face was fresh and clear and strikingly beautiful in the most effortless way. But Jessica was enraptured by the look in those brown eyes; the shining intelligence and passion below the attractive surface, and also by the way the woman held herself; tall and confident and proud, even in her excitement to see an old friend. Here was a noblewoman to be admired and respected, and Jessica could not help but feel terribly inferior in comparison. "Claudia! I can hardly believe you're here!"

"Hey, Marietta. Recognise me?"

Jessica's head turned, and then her chin lifted to meet the eyes of the young man beside her. He was paler than his sister, and he had become gaunt as well as tall, giving Jessica the impression of a very well dressed scarecrow. But though his face had become as sharp as the rest of him, and his dark hair had grown long and was now held back by a red ribbon, his eyes were what gave him away. Though their shape was one shared by every man of the Auditore clan, the deep, old-soul look in their brown depths could belong to only one person.

"Petruccio!" she laughed, squeezing his arm and mentally wincing at how easily she could feel his bone beneath the rich material of his sleeve. "Of course I do. God, you've grown so much. Look how tall you are!"

"It's been a long time since you last saw us."

Though he hadn't said it to be vindictive, her smile faltered and she gazed at the boy she had saved so many years ago, who was now quickly becoming a man. She supposed she couldn't call him the Kid anymore.

"I know," she said softly, smiling tightly at them both. As they stared at her, she was grateful to see that there were no accusations in their eyes; their anger and hurt had been put aside a long time ago.

But as they stepped away to greet their brother who stood patiently beside her, and as Leonardo moved forward to greet a significantly less comatose Maria Auditore, her smile fell away completely as her green eyes met chocolate brown. A tight fist encircled her heart as her stomach lurched and she was paralysed with uncertainty and utter mortification.

Federico Auditore had aged well. His hair was longer and the stubble on his face was thicker, giving him a rugged look and sharpening his jaw line. His eyes seemed darker, and his face somewhat harder than before, with new lines on his forehead, on his brow and around his nose, which was still marked with that red scar. He looked paler, no doubt from all his time spent indoors, though he seemed no thinner. He stood tall and strong, with broad shoulders and a thin waist, emphasised by the red tunic he wore, which had a low collar that exposed the dark hair on his chest.

Jessica wanted the ground to swallow her whole as she watched his eyes sweep slowly down her body, and then back up again, taking in every inch of her form, before his gaze returned to her face. Her tongue felt like lead in her mouth as her mind screamed at her to smile politely at him and greet him casually, but her body had quite forgotten how to function and she could only stand and stare with wide eyes as years of guilt and regret swept over her.

She had written to him to apologise, as she had with Claudia and Petruccio, but he had not written back. She could only imagine what he must think of her now. Staring into his eyes, she tried to read him as she once had, but his mind was closed to her, and she could almost see the wall which had been carefully placed behind his eyes, and its presence hurt her more than she thought it would. Though she silently mourned for the friendship lost between them, she couldn't see any way it could possibly be mended. Their final actions toward each other had been reckless and driven by a fatal misunderstanding. He had proposed and she had rejected him. Not to mention there was also his association with the Assassins to think about. Really, what more was there to say? How could they possibly move forward from all that had happened? She hadn't much hope of reconciliation, even for the sake of his youngest siblings. Some things just weren't meant to be.

Jessica was saved from any kind of immediate confrontation by Ezio sweeping forward to embrace his older brother. As focus was taken off her, Jessica found that she could breathe freely again, though she was appalled to see how her hands shook as she turned away from the four siblings as they laughed and hugged each other enthusiastically.

Seeing Leonardo standing nearby she went to him, immediately feeling more secure and steady in his presence. Sensing her uneasiness, he said nothing, but placed a hand on her back and patted her gently, standing close and leaving his hand in place as he turned back to Maria. Jessica focussed on the warmth of her friend's body, and let his voice, as familiar to her as her own, settle her mind.

"_Signora, _you remember my assistant and dear friend, Marietta Sanfilippo?"

"Of course. _È bello rivederti, _Marietta_. Come sta?__"_

"_Sto molto bene, grazie. E lei?" _Jessica replied politely.

"I am glad to be off that ship. It has been a long journey and I am not as young as I once was."

"_Sciocchezza!" _Leonardo protested gallantly._ "_You are as lovely as the day I first saw you."

"Flatterer," Maria laughed, obviously pleased.

It was the first time Jessica had ever spoken to the Mrs. Auditore, and though Leonardo swore otherwise, it was clear that she had been hit the hardest by the years which had passed. Her face was gaunt and drawn, with dark bags beneath her eyes which were filled with a dim weariness usually suited to people much older than the woman standing before them. Her dark hair was held in a caul akin to her daughter's, and she was clearly the source of the Auditore children's nose, mouth and chin. Jessica felt awkward in the traumatised woman's presence, uncomfortable even, as that look in Maria Auditore's eyes was one that she knew well. She had seen it every day for years after her dad had died in that mine collapse, in the eyes of her mother. It was the look of a person who had grown tired of living, but who was determined to keep doing so for the sake of those who loved her; her children.

Jessica was taken aback when the older woman suddenly took her hands within her cool, dry fingers and held tight. Stiff at the woman's touch, Jessica watched warily as Maria stared into her face, Leo's warm hand pressing into her back the only thing keeping her from flinching away.

"I never had the chance to thank you for saving my children. I owe you a debt that cannot be repaid."

Maria's voice was quiet but strong, and filled with all the sincerity and gratitude a mother who had almost lost everything could give. Jessica's chest clenched as she awkwardly tried to think of something gracious to say in response, but she was once again saved by Ezio's overzealous greeting of his family members. Jessica's hands were freed from Maria's cool grip and intense stare as she was gathered into her son's arms. Jessica let out a breath, feeling overwhelmed, and Leonardo rubbed her back, grinning at her as she sent him a sideways look. He leant in close.

"You've done a good thing, _mia cara."_

Blinking, she frowned in confusion, staring into his blue eyes which shimmered with light as he smiled at her. "Me? What have I done?"

His arm wrapped around her shoulder and squeezed fondly, directing his gaze at the Auditore family, who stood in a messy circle, laughing and kissing each other, overjoyed to be reunited after so long. Jessica's smiled faded as she looked at the family, together and whole, looking a picture of happiness against the panoramic backdrop of the cool Venetian morning. The four children, Federico, Ezio, Claudia, and Petruccio, all grown up and ready to find their way in this world, and their mother, who clung to them as if they were the only thing anchoring her to this life, appeared so picturesque in their elation that Jessica imagined for a moment that they were not but paint on a canvas; a masterful creation of Leonardo's doing.

She held onto this thought for several long moments, both in awe of the perfection of the scene, and as a way to soothe her aching heart. It had been some time since she had let herself think of her own family; her mother and father, her sister, Jasmine and her brother, Tommy, because though time had eased the pain of losing her world, it had not yet managed to relieve the heartbreak of knowing she would never again see the people she had loved and been loved by since the day she came into existence. She did not like to dwell in self-pity; she hardly had the time for it most days, but as Leonardo had once so aptly perceived, she was not always master of her darker thoughts and emotions.

Yet today, surrounded by so many people who cared for her and strengthened by Leonardo's stable presence beside her, she was able to shake it from her mind and by the time the greetings had ended and she was swept away from Leonardo and caught between Petruccio, who beamed at her with boyish glee, and Claudia, who entwined their arms between them and held tight with her empty hand, she had gathered the ever-trembling pieces of herself and stuck them back together with masking tape and a glue stick. And she smiled at them, because no matter how damaged she was and always would be, they were her friends and they were happy to see her and she hadn't ever imagined that it would feel so good to be with them again.

"Oh, Marietta, you won't believe how terrible our journey was."

"Mother told us not to tell you..."

"But how could we not? What? Are we to keep secrets from our dear Marietta?"

"Of course not! But we shall keep our voices down, shan't we, sister?"

"I will try if you will."

"Agreed. Where shall we begin?"

As the fast talking siblings, who were clearly now the best of friends, began to recount their long and strenuous journey from Monteriggioni to Venice, they were called to follow Maria, Federico, Ezio and Leo away from the pier and through the streets of Venice, presumably in the direction of their new house. Leonardo had already begun an enthusiastic tour, pointing out interesting landmarks and shops to avoid, and Ezio, who sounded happier than he had in a long time, joined in, expressing his opinion of the most beautiful areas of the city and recommending the finest shops selling food, drink and fabrics at the best prices.

"And once the bandits were gone," Petruccio was saying, "Federico having scared them off, we set up camp and thank goodness Uncle Mario insisted on packing the tents because no sooner had night fallen that the heavens opened and it rained like I have never seen it rain before!"

"And it was dreadful for poor Petruccio, sick as he was..."

"...But I gathered my strength..."

"...And when morning came we pushed onward, through the wind and the rains and all our Lord Almighty could throw at us."

Jessica frowned at the mention of Petruccio's sickness, remembering how Ezio had said he had been bedridden for months after she left. "I hope you're feeling better."

Claudia's mouth twisted into a rueful smile as she looked at her younger brother, who now towered over them both, with a dear affection. "He has his good days... as well as his bad."

Petruccio shot her a look of reproach and pouted. "I am fine. I feel stronger even now. You worry too much Claudia."

Claudia hmphed and squeezed Jessica's arm, muttering to herself, "He doesn't worry enough."

Jessica could still not say for sure what it was that plagued her young friend; she was no doctor, nor had she encountered such an unpredictable illness before. It struck him when the weather was too cold or too hot, or when the winds blew too strongly. Petruccio would be wracked with coughs, and find it, at times, difficult to breathe. But the spasmodic coughing would pass soon enough, with the aid of steam and a warm cloth on his chest, and then the strength would drain from him and he would not be able to move a muscle for days, or even weeks at a time, requiring help to change and bathe and eat, and all anyone could do was make him comfortable, keep him in company and wait until the day the colour returned to his cheeks and he could act as a normal child once more.

She had looked after him when he was taken with his illness a hundred times before, and she was dismayed to hear that he continued to suffer it. At his age, the blow to his pride as a result of his inability to even feed himself would be truly terrible. But now he walked beside her, gazing about at the red, orange and brown autumn leaves which clung defiantly to the branches of sleepy trees, peeking through bakery shop windows and tugging them away from the group to lean precariously over low rails and peer into the depths of the canals which ran like veins through the city, and there was colour in his cheeks and a red tint to his nose as a result of the cold, and she could honestly say she had never seen anyone with such an easy smile, even as the dark brown of his eyes revealed to her a past too terrible to mention.

"The storm raged for days and days, sometimes with thunder and lightning and raining all the while. I thought it would never end! I was sure that all of Italy would be covered with water and sink beneath the ocean and that would be the end of us all."

"But eventually it did stop."

"And yet, I will never get the sound of raindrops hitting the roof of the carriage out of my mind."

"Nor the mud off of my boots."

"Indeed. And I think that is rather about the time that Petruccio became bored and decided it would be a wonderful time to pick on Federico."

"I was just playing around with him."

"Of course, the grumpy old man did not take it well. They wouldn't talk to each other for days."

"_Days_?" Jessica wondered with a curious look. "How long did it take you to get here?"

"Almost a fortnight. It was because of the rain, you see. The roads turned to mud and the mud turned to rivers and we had to take many stops to rest the horses and let the carriage drivers dry themselves out. It must have been a dreadful journey for the poor men, but they were most valiant and commendable in their duties."

"Valiant in dealing with _her_," Petruccio leaned in to say, glancing at Claudia with a traitorous grin. "She would not stop complaining the entire trip."

"It is not my fault I was irritable. I had a terrible time trying to sleep, what with you and Federico arguing in the tent next to mine and Mamma's."

"Oh yes, because you were so very quiet."

"We were not almost as disturbing as you two."

"_Spazzatura!"_

Jessica laughed to herself as the siblings bantered over her head, and droned them out as the light argument continued, instead looking about to see that they had travelled quite far into the city. Leonardo and the older Auditores walked no more than a meter in front of them, still apparently enraptured by Leo's factual tour and as they moved through the cool autumn morning. Jessica could not help but stare at the back of Federico Auditore's head and wonder what he thought of her and whether she had reason to feel so anxious at the idea of finding herself alone with him, which she knew, with her luck, was inevitable.

"Ah, here we are."

They had stopped in a small lane lined by a canal which was scattered with gondolas painted in bright colours and their small group turned to peer through the bars of a large, square gate leading into what looked like a courtyard in the middle of a three story palazzo which had been constructed of red brick in the shape of a 'u'.

Looking up, Jessica stared at the arched windows and the shining glass of the face of the building and then took a breath as Federico pulled a large set of dark, heavy keys on a ring from his pocket, picked out the correct one and slid it into the gate, swinging it open and stepping aside to allow his mother and the others to enter before him.

Jessica avoided eye contact with him as she slipped through after Claudia, but was immediately distracted by her surroundings. Smooth grey flagstones covered the ground, and a covered stone well sat off to the right beside a grand old tree, the branches of which reached high above them, filling much of the empty space over their heads. Graceful white pillars held the building in place and allowed for a covered walkway on the three sides of the courtyard, which were filled with enormous pots holding a large variety of plants, some bare and well into their autumn and winter sleep, while others remained lusciously green, giving colour to the otherwise red and grey courtyard garden.

On the second floor of the building, overlooking this courtyard was a set of four enormous arched windows, tall and thin, and each one inset with even thinner glass doors which opened out onto a balcony. Smaller windows, alternately square and arched otherwise speckled the walls on either side and above them.

Jessica couldn't help but gasp as she took it in, dried brown and maroon leaves crunching beneath their feet as the group slowly dispersed, their eyes wide in admiration. Jessica was released by Claudia and Petruccio as the two moved toward the middle of the large area, both turning in full circles as their eyes flickered about, never settling on one thing, and as she heard Federico close the gate behind them, she moved quickly over to stand by the well, running her fingers across its smooth surface and watching him move toward Ezio who stood beside Leonardo and Maria by a rather large potted dark green fern in front of a pillar on the left side of the yard.

She watched as Leonardo and Maria laughed at something Ezio said, and Federico clapped him on the back with a grin and then glanced over, catching her stare. Jessica looked away quickly and casually walked to stand with Claudia and Petruccio who had discovered what must be the front door; enormous double doors made of a shining deep red wood and decorated with beautiful carvings in the design of vines and flowers.

"Hey, Federico! What are you waiting for? Let's see the inside!" Petruccio called eagerly.

The others joined them, Federico choosing the correct key on the ring after two attempts, and Jessica was surprised to see that on the other side was a white, marble half-landing staircase. An air of excited curiousity over them, they ascended these stairs and found themselves gathered at the top in astonished awe.

The roof was ridiculously high, and windows reached from floor to ceiling, covered in sheer white curtains beneath heavy deep red velvet drapes were on either end of what seemed to be an enormous, long room consisting of two elegant lounges rooms, and at the far end, a grand dining room. The drapes were thick with dust, and as Federico and Petruccio pulled open the drapes closest to them, and secured them with tassels, sunlight filled the house. White sheets covered what looked like a set of four couches around a coffee table in the room immediately before them, and looking further in to the absolutely massive house, they saw a sea of white sheets covered in pale dust covered every piece of furniture and hung over what appeared to be mirrors on the walls as well as tied around what must have been three enormous cone-shaped chandeliers which hung at equal distance in each separate but joined area of the hall.

The floors were a dark, lightly speckled marble, the walls were a smooth, solid cream colour, and the roof had been designed that the beams were shown, giving the magnificent house a solid, earthy feel which Jessica decided she very much liked, even as she consciously ignored the thick cobwebs which presently hung from and were settled within the dark wooden beams. Their footsteps echoed through the hall as they disturbed the dusty air and gazed about in silent wonder at what was the Auditores new home.

Various doors of the same dark wood as the beams above them were set at random intervals on either side of the hall, no doubt leading to the innermost areas of the house, and Jessica wanted nothing more than to be permitted to explore them all to her heart's content, but as the Auditores gathered in the middle lounge room, she realised that Leonardo and herself, although dear friends to the family, and though perhaps considered members in all but blood, were not, and would never actually be part of the intimate group, and as such, they suddenly felt as if they were intruding.

This house was enormous and magnificent and it had been a very long time since Jessica had last been reminded that the Auditores were, in fact, nobles; each of them born into wealth, status and privilege. But now, standing in this grand palace which they had purchased with their own coin and in which they were going to take up residence, it became a fact which was very hard to ignore.

Jessica lived a comfortable existence with Leonardo and Elmo. She never wanted for food or clothes; their home was furnished for the practical purpose of artistic endeavours, as was their business and Leonardo's main source – and thus her's, as she was technically entirely dependent upon him – of income. The house and her room was larger than the one they had inhabited in Florence, and it was comfortable and attractive to her in the most simple of ways, and yet she could not help but judge it in comparison to the expense and glamour of this palace, and find it inferior, in the same way she felt herself as inferior to Claudia's natural beauty, charm and wit. Like a gem against a rock, or a star against a moon, there was little competition as to what her mind naturally preferred.

But she didn't have to struggle to control the envy within her for even a moment, for she knew what her life was and what it had always been, and she knew that she had all she needed and she was more than content in sharing it all with the man who stood beside her in his red beret and short, funny cape. As lovely as the glamour and wealth was, it wasn't what she needed, or even what she wanted. It was a lovely picture, like a painting to be admired or a view to be gawked at; it was a thing which should be taken in small doses, so that the appreciation of its sheer glorious beauty would remain, and not become the norm. She believed such things were better to be looked up at instead of being looked down from.

So she smiled at Leonardo, who she knew shared her opinion; in fact she doubted that the man felt any envy for such fine things in the first place so contented he was in having a workshop and ample resources to do whatever and all he wished in the world of art and science. For this she admired him even more than was already possible.

"Isn't this place gorgeous?" she sighed, leading him over to the wall of windows and pushing aside the greying sheer curtains to see that they led to the balcony overlooking the courtyard.

"It is indeed impressive. You said that Claudia carried out all the necessary negotiations and dealings herself?"

"Yes. She's a cunning businesswoman. Where I'm from, people would kill for a place like this."

"Where you're from?" Leo caught her low words, and she was surprised to hear the encouragement in his tone and she turned her head to look at him, realising that she honestly could not remember the last time she had said anything about her home and her true identity out loud to anyone. In fact, it actually took a moment for her to recall her true name. Jessica. No one had called her Jessica in years. Even Leonardo had given it up some time before they had come to live in Venezia. Everyone knew her as Marietta, and it was the name she introduced herself by, and it had thus become her identity, whether it rightly belonged to her or not.

She tried to remember what Leonardo knew about where she had come from, and found that she could not think of telling him anything past the fact that she was not Marietta Sanfilippo, or at least, she hadn't been. She rubbed her forehead as her thoughts became jumbled in the mess that was her situation. This was why they hadn't spoken of it; it was unnecessarily confusing and had little impact on their lives on the whole.

Slowly, she nodded to him, hesitating as she thought of something to say to his curious blue gaze.

"People would have spent years and paid millions to replicate this. They didn't build places like this anymore, and it would have been hard to find the resources to put it all together; the furniture, the wood, the sculptures would have had to be bought at ridiculous prices, and then probably restored, or else just made from scratch. It would all be antiques, and antiques were always expensive."

As she spoke, she found herself stumbling over her words as panic and horror clutched her heart as three awful things suddenly became very clear to her: she had referred to the people belonging to the place and time she had come from as 'they'; all she had said and thought was in the past tense, and worst of all, it was frighteningly difficult to remember even some of the most simple things about the world she had once belonged to. Her words didn't come easily, though it was not a complex topic to discuss: restoration of antiques had once been as natural to her as breathing as Retro and Victorian items and clothing had been a special interest of hers, but now she had found it challenging to even remember the word 'antique' as she could not remember the last time she had had any reason to use it.

It had been so long. What else had vanished from her memory so subtly that she hadn't even noticed its passing? The thought absolutely terrified her, and she fell silent, her hands tightening to tight fists at her sides as her entire body stiffened and she had to bite her lip from crying out loud in agony of this revelation. She felt as if a part of her had died without her even noticing it.

In any case, she convincingly waved away Leonardo's remorseful apology and concern as he saw the effects his words had had upon her, and she continued as if her entire identity hadn't become a half-forgotten memory.

"Well, you've certainly got your work cut out for you," she called to Claudia, moving away from the window and toward the Auditores, who were in mid-conversation.

"Yes, but it's not nearly as bad as Uncle's villa," Claudia laughed, recalling how much work was involved in making the Auditore Villa inhabitable.

Jessica nodded, "True. I think the dust may be your biggest adversary."

As she said this, Petruccio sneezed loudly, and all present watched him carefully, obviously expecting the young man to descend into a coughing fit as was would be usual in a place with air as unclean as this, but with a final clearing of his throat, he calmed and was well again.

He looked at the sea of faces staring at him with concern and smiled, flushing slightly in embarrassment at the attention. "Excuse me. Don't worry, it was just a sneeze. I feel fine. It will be good to air out these rooms and get rid of all the dust."

"This house hasn't been lived in for almost half a year," Claudia said, sounding almost offended. "Of course there is dust."

"And spiders, I'm sure," Ezio laughed at the panic-stricken look which overcame Claudia's face.

Jessica rolled her eyes with a smile as Petruccio chuckled meanly and Maria chastised both Ezio and her youngest son, even as humour danced in her eyes. Though the conversation remained light-hearted, the tension radiating from Federico's silent form was palpable and eventually Jessica briefly met Leonardo's eyes and knew that he agreed with her silent decision that it would be best to leave.

"I do believe Marietta and I will take our leave and allow you to settle in to your beautiful home."

"Aww!" complained Petruccio, with a disappointed pout.

"You will come to see us tomorrow, won't you Marietta?" Claudia pleaded, clutching Jessica's hands desperately.

"Of course. I mean, if I'm not busy," she answered with a glance to her boss.

"You should both visit tomorrow," Maria declared diplomatically, appeasing her children as she turned to embrace Leonardo in farewell. "We will have lunch together and then you must show us more of this beautiful city."

"Oh, and your workshop too!" Petruccio added with an eager grin.

He was silenced by a sharp look from his mother. "We shall be in Venice for quite some time, Petruccio. There is no reason to rush. This visit is supposed to be a vacation."

"Yes, Mother," Petruccio said obediently as it was the only answer which would be accepted from the family matriarch, but when she turned, Petruccio winked conspiratorially across at Claudia, who sent a secret smile to Jessica, who shook her head at her friends exasperatedly. She could already tell that these coming months would be even more exhausting than usual, but in the best way possible.

"Of course we will visit tomorrow. We will see you then. Rest well, my friends." Leonardo farewelled the Auditore children, shaking Federico and Ezio's hands and kissing Maria's cheeks enthusiastically.

Jessica was warmly embraced by Petruccio and Claudia, as well as Maria, and was made to promise on pain of death that she would indeed see them tomorrow.

"I will show you out," Federico's low, even voice declared, playing the part of a good host.

With a final wave, they moved out of the gigantic hall, descended the marble staircase out the front door and followed Federico across the courtyard to the gate, which he held open for them. Leonardo stepped through with a grin and a hearty thanks, and Jessica followed behind, still too cowardly in her humiliation to even meet his eyes. Yet as she stepped through and joined Leonardo in the lovely, quiet street, listening to the groan of the gate as it was pushed closed behind them, she glanced back and saw him watching her through the bars and she found she couldn't look away.

Jessica saw pain in his eyes as he stood in the shadows, and her stomach twisted as she knew at once that what she had done to him so long ago had not been forgotten to his mind or his heart. He held her gaze for several long moments, simply drinking in her features like a starving man to a glass of water, before she saw the wall behind his chocolate brown eyes soften and fall away as his mouth twisted into a small and rueful, but sure, smile.

"See you tomorrow, Marietta," she heard him say quietly to himself as she turned away at last.

She swallowed hard as Leonardo took her arm, chatting jovially about how wonderful a morning it had been and how well all the Auditores looked and how he was glad Ezio had his family with him at last, and he led her away from the gate and away from Federico Auditore, whose eyes she felt on her back long after they had disappeared around a corner and out of his sight. It was only when she was within the walls of the workshop that she could finally breathe easily again, secure in the confines of her home and far from where his tense and meaningful gaze could reach her. That was, until tomorrow when they would go to lunch and she would be forced to endure the soulful eyes of the man she had hurt irreparably, once again.

She sighed as she collapsed into her bed that night, thinking of, and trying not to think of, all that had occurred that day. It had been a long time since she had felt such an awful mixture of overwhelming happiness and earth-shattering devastation, but she found that because Leonardo had worked her to the bone in order to compensate for the hours of work which would be lost tomorrow, she was fortunately too exhausted for her mind to torture her with all it wanted to, and so she fell into a dreamless sleep and didn't wake til the next morning.


	25. Chapter 24 (2016)

_"__You know, Hobbes, some days even my lucky rocket ship underpants don't help."_  
― Bill Watterson

The morning saw Jessica, dressed in a loose white shirt and brown pants, reclining in the armchair by the large window in Elmo's study, one leg flung over the arm and the other tucked beneath her. Her long thick hair flowed in inky black waves across her shoulders and down her back as she gazed through the dewy glass at the people in the square below, huddling together and clutching their capes and cloaks as the winds blew the winter ever closer to the city. She felt this cold seep through the window, like an icy breath on her skin, but it could not settle in the warm room.

Elmo loved winter, but hated the cold and thus much preferred to admire the cool months from within the heated confines of his study. In the fireplace, the flames burned hot and bright, filling the room with a ruddy golden light and a smoky heat.

Jessica yawned and stretched, still tired though she had slept like the dead. She craned her neck to watch her friend's expressive eyebrows dance upon his face as he tended to one of the many small potted plants he kept in a locked terrarium on a table by the window. Each of these plants, she had been told, were quite rare and unique in this part of the world and he had apparently had gone to great lengths to acquire them. Venice being one of the largest trading ports in the world was no doubt nothing but an advantage to any who wished to collect foreign or vaguely illegal items from afar, fortunately for Elmo.

He had tried to explain the important aspects of these separate species and their practical uses to her several times before giving up altogether, realising Jessica's interest in learning about even the most useful flora was practically nonexistent. All she needed to know was that depending on which part of the plant was used, you could either effectively heal or kill a man, and that under no circumstances should she ever touch them. She had little temptation to do so, for she was far more content to admire their healthy green leaves and the care Elmo took in pruning and treating them as she absentmindedly played with one of the many trinkets which decorated his desk or was found elsewhere around the room.

Some of these were interesting or dangerous-looking tools, smooth, round stones, colourful crystals or glimmering gems, which he had gathered over the years. But when he brought out his chest of vials she could be counted on to drop whatever shiny thing she had been fiddling with in favour of exploring its seemingly endless depths. Dozens of thin glass vials sealed with a cork were neatly labelled and stored within several wooden vial racks which were layered on top of each other within the dark wooden chest, with a good deal of hay packed in the spaces in between.

In these vials were colourful liquids of various consistencies, salts and sands, grains and seeds, leaves and roots and flakes of various metals and stones, all of which were either more rare or more expensive than those sitting in larger pots and jars in the bookshelf on the left wall, beside thick books with dusty and beaten covers and torn and yellowed pages.

When this chest was not in use, it sat beneath his long workbench on the right wall of the room, next to several other dark wooden boxes which held various jars, papers, instruments and things. Bundles of herbs hung from the roof near the fire, and some of these she could actually recognise; lavender, parsley, rosemary, sage and thyme, but only because there were similar bundles of each hanging downstairs in the kitchen, and because they gave off a most delightfully delicious odour.

In this room Jessica felt like she was in a different world; it was a warm, quiet and comforting atmosphere, both as a result of the content of the room, and of the man who worked within. She watched this man's large, slender fingered hands carefully stroke the dark green leaves, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing the freckled, tight skin of his muscular forearms, which were, in places, stained with ink. His thick eyebrows were furrowed in concentration; his eyes analysing every inch of the leaf within his gentle grasp before he deemed it acceptable and moved onto the next and then the next, until finally the plant was concluded to be as healthy as possible and was thus placed back within the terrarium. When the lock had been fastened, his shoulders relaxed and he smiled to himself as he turned away, wiping his hands on his pants and nodding in satisfaction that the first chore of the day had gone smoothly.

"So, what are ye goin' to do?"

She sighed heavily at his question, returning her gaze to the window and slumping against the armchair in despair. "I've no idea."

"Well," he said, and she heard him move behind her and shuffle some of the papers on his desk, "ye can't handle it the way ye did before. And that is to say, how ye _didn't _handle it. Which is why yer in this entire mess to begin with."

Jessica groaned at the truth in her friend's words, overcome with shame and frustration. "Well, what would _you _do about it? If you were in my shoes."

"What would I do if I were you?" he thought a moment and then chuckled sardonically. "Well, considerin' the lad is livin' in a palace, swimmin' in more gold than he knows what to do with, is of a good family and has proven that he is both able and willin' to provide for and protect ye, and on top of which, is _completely _mad about ye... I'd say to hell with it: marry the lad."

Elmo's conclusion had her nearly falling off the chair to face him, and she ended up on her knees on the seat, glaring over the back of the chair. "You'd marry him?" she demanded.

Her friend was seated at his desk, his back to her as he dipped his quill in ink and began scratching at the parchment, speaking casually. "Aye, I would, if I were ye. Any respectable young woman in her right mind would."

"The hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It means that an Auditore is a better match than any painter's assistant could ever dream of," he said, still sounding infuriatingly passive about the entire topic.

She knew better than to take his words personally, as they were obviously not meant as a judgement of her mental health or character, but it was early and she was tired, and so she found that she couldn't help but do just that.

"And so, what? Just because he happens to be rich, and thus apparently better than I, I should thank my luck, swoon into his arms and let him carry me off into the sunset?" she snapped, her fingers digging into the material of the chair.

"That is the general idea, aye. It'd be a marriage to yer great advantage. Many girls would kill to be in yer place; with a man like Federico Auditore pining after them, even after a rejected proposal and years apart. It's th' perfect romance."

"Except I'm not in love with him."

She continued to burn holes in his head, even as he turned to send her a wry grin, his eyes glittering with humour. "For most, that would no' make the slightest difference. The important thing is that he is rich, and that he loves ye."

Her heart skipped a beat as her stomach dropped in the most unpleasant of ways as Elmo said the words out loud. Jessica's arms crossed over the back of the chair and she dropped her head onto them in utter desolation.

"I wish he didn't. I truly, truly wish that he had, well, at least fallen out of...of love, after everything that happened. I just don't understand how it happened in the first place. I mean, I sure as hell don't recall doing anything to make him do it, and it's not like there's much to me that would encourage it on its own. I mean, you know me. What is there about me that could have possibly made a Florentine nobleman care about me?"

Elmo stilled, turning stiffly to stare at her with wide eyes. "Is... this a trick question?" he asked, clearly worried that this was one of those womanly traps where nothing he could say would be the right answer.

Jessica sighed in frustration and rolled her eyes. "I just need to understand. I need to find a way to fix this," she finished in a despondent mumble.

She watched as Elmo put down his quill and adjusted himself in his chair so he was facing her, his expression deeply thoughtful all the while, and she was suddenly very grateful that he was taking this as seriously as he was, instead of laughing it off as a silly woman's problem. Meeting his steady gaze, she stared into his blue eyes as they slowly roamed across her face, taking in inch by inch, and she suddenly knew what it felt to be the leaf of one of his precious plants, fixed under his intense, analytical stare as he approached the issue in the best way he knew possible; with science, and words.

"Well, yer face is certainly a place to start; full lips, high forehead, small chin, narrow jaw, high cheekbones, smooth skin, big eyes. In all an attractively symmetrical face, indicating good breeding." Vaguely uncomfortable with this dispassionate conclusion, Jessica could only listen as Elmo's eyes continued to roam. "Yer hair is long, thick and lustrous, indicating good health and nutrition. And as for the rest of ye... well, that's as far as I'll go as to not make this conversation _too_ inappropriate," he chuckled. "But really, lass, ye have a mirror; ye surely know how beautiful a woman ye are. That alone would draw any man to ye. But true, it's no' enough to warrant years of pining, so perhaps it has somethin' to do with yer _shining _personality," he finished with a roll of his eyes.

Blushing faintly, Jessica scoffed and waved a hand to silence him, uninterested in hearing any more comments concerning her appearance or light-hearted insults to her character. He laughed, humour dancing in his eyes.

"Well, thank you for that thorough evaluation, but it doesn't really help my situation does it?" she grumbled.

Elmo shook his head. "Listen, if ye did nothing to cause the lad to fall in love with ye, then there's nothin' ye can do to make him not love ye, as it means that he fell in love with ye purely because ye are ye. Which he wouldn't have done had he known the language that comes out of yer mouth whenever something doesn't go yer way, or how ye like to eat the pips of an orange, which is disgusting by the way, or had he heard some of the noises ye make in yer sleep," he finished with a mischievous look.

"Oh, that is rich coming from _you._" Jessica's face scrunched up in displeasure, and her chin fell onto her arms as she stared hopelessly at her friend._ "_So you're saying that there's absolutely nothing I can do to fix this?"

Elmo's eyebrows rose as he drew in a long breath, his lips tightening and his shoulders rising in a helpless shrug. "Short of marryin' the man... No, I truly canno' see anything to be done." He sent a remorseful smile her way, his eyebrows curling and twisting and moving halfway up his forehead as he did.

Jessica didn't reciprocate the gesture, but instead sank into the chair, turning and pulling her knees to her chin as her arms wrapped around her legs and held them there as she buried her face in the brown material of her pants, taking deep breaths and absolutely dreading the thought of visiting the Auditore's house later that day. Curled up in Elmo's study she felt safe and in control but knew that the moment she stepped out the door that would all vanish and she would be left to face the tragedy that was Federico Auditore's unreciprocated feelings. She heard Elmo return to his writing but didn't move a muscle until Leonardo came looking for her some hours later. It was time to go.

Several hours later, Jessica found herself in Elmo's study, which had descended into chaos in the short time they had been parted. The room was filled with a thick white smoke that reeked of rotten eggs, originating from a small fire which had caught on his workbench, which Claudia, in a fine yellow silk dress, dripping with jewels and looking every bit the gorgeous noblewoman she was, was beating at with a rag. Petruccio, his long hair loose and hanging in a shaggy mane around his head, struggled with the latch on the window before flinging it wide open and picking up his own rag which he waved around, trying to relieve the room of smoke. Their eyes stung and they each covered their mouths with their sleeves, coughing as they worked to return the room to normality.

Jessica, meanwhile, knelt beside Elmo who sat in the chair she had reclined in only this morning, which was now marked and stained by the soot which covered the man. His face was streaked with the black dirt, and his blonde hair and eyebrows were almost completely darkened by it. What was left of his eyebrows, that is. It would have been an entirely humourous situation if not for the burns on his hands and arms which Jessica now treated with the utmost care. His arm was tense beneath her hands and he hissed quietly through his teeth, trying very hard to keep control of the pain.

As the air began to clear, and the fire was extinguished, it became easier to breathe and also to see that Elmo was now not the only one covered in the black dust. Jessica was mortified, both for herself and on Elmo's behalf, as she glanced at her friends and saw that their fine clothes were ruined, tainted with streaks and blotches of black. They walked in a circle about the room, waving their rags in the air and coughing every now and then, Petruccio surprisingly no more frequently than his sister.

She swore under her breath, glaring at the injuries on Elmo's hand and resisting the strong urge to throw him out the window. He said nothing to her, still stung from the severe reprimands she had inflicted upon him only moments before and which now hung as a tense, roiling curtain of wounded pride, embarrassment, fear, concern and anger between them. So Jessica worked in silence, gently applying cool compresses to the already blistering burns until he quietly commented that the pain had begun to fade, and she proceeded to delicately clean his hands, trying not to gag as small pieces of burned flesh came away with the rag. His arms cleaned as well, she patted them dry, applied some salve Elmo had created himself, and then loosely bandaged both appendages.

Satisfied that the job was well done, Jessica stood without another glance at the man who had nearly scared the life out of her. He stared after her with a face like a kicked puppy.

The afternoon had started out well. Jessica had been instructed to wear the one dress she owned that was appropriate for lunching with nobility, and Elmo had helped her wrangle her mess of hair into a caul and pin it there. They had arrived at the Auditore's home, and had been greeted by a servant, which was a shock in itself, who led them through the swept and dusted hall, past the furniture which had been covered by sheets and was now revealed to be red velvet chairs and couches, and beneath the set of what had to be the three most exquisite chandeliers she had ever seen. Enormous mirrors hung on the walls, reflecting the sunlight streaming through the window, and fire licked the insides of the enormous fireplace in the centre of the hall, the large marble mantelpiece engraved with vines, laurel leaves, roses and what looked almost like a dragon, though it might have been some sort of bird. An eagle, perhaps?

She and Leo had greeted the family, minus Ezio who apparently had more important things to do than lunch with his family, they had sat down and Jessica had been quite shocked to find that she had been directed to the seat to the right of Federico. She then spent the duration of the lunch alternatively laughing with her friends, eating more food than she knew was appropriate in such company, and forcing herself not to wither and crumble into a red ball of mortification each time Federico even so much as glanced her way. By the time the lunch was at an end they had directly spoken to each other exactly six times, and Jessica was bewildered at the fact that the world hadn't come to an end as a result.

The group had left the house and gone for a walk through the city, and somewhere along the way Jessica had been grabbed by a bored Petruccio and Claudia and the three had absconded, with less subtlety than they gave themselves credit. They cut through the markets, spent some time window shopping, and finally ended up at her house. They had barely stepped over the threshold when she had heard a shout from upstairs, followed by a small explosion. And then silence.

Ignoring Claudia's girly squeak, she had taken the stairs two at a time and burst through the door to his study only to be met by a thick, foul-smelling wall of white smoke. Eyes watering, she covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve and entered the room, determined to find her friend. It would have been easier had he been stumbling about, cursing or coughing, but as it was, he was silent. Which made her chest tighten and her blood fill with ice.

Her free arm waved wildly in front of her, both to dispel the smoke and to keep from crashing into any furniture she knew was lying about in the usually messy room. Her eyes stung as water streamed down her cheeks, and she could see a small fire on the bench to her left, the red flames licking eerily in the thick air. But by this strange light she could see the outline of a large man sitting at the desk at the far end of the room, and she moved toward him, only tripping once over the curled corner of the rug, until at last her hand landed on a warm, familiar shoulder and held tight. He was warm and trembling, and as she leaned close, peering through the smoke and the tears, she saw he was hunched over, his hands held close to his body. Still conscious. Still breathing. Still alive.

"Elmo?" she coughed. "Elmo. What the hell did you _do_?" She heard her voice but it was higher than she remembered it; it was unbalanced and thick with the fear which coursed through her veins.

"Marietta?!" she heard Petruccio's voice from somewhere in the smoke. "Where are you? What's happened?"

"Are you alright?" Claudia called, the question cut off by a cough.

"I'm fine. But Elmo's hurt." She gently reached down and peeled his hands away from his shirt, hissing as she saw the damage he had done. Her fingers shook. "Oh my god. What the hell."

"Who is Elmo?" she heard Petruccio ask his sister, the sound far away. Jessica's heart thundered in her ears.

"Help me with this window," Claudia commanded, ignoring his question in favour of her quest for fresh air.

"How the hell did you manage this? Look at your hands! Ah, and your arms too. Jesus Christ. Were you _trying_ to kill yourself? Ah, yuck!" Jessica recoiled as she touched his hand and a sliver of burnt skin caught on her finger and peeled away. Gagging and coughing, she shook his shoulder and looked into his dazed and soot-covered face. "Elmo. We need to clean this. Do you hear me, you great blundering oaf? Elmo? Hell. Blink once for yes."

His bloodshot eyes looked neon, a shocking blue against red. They were glassy and wet but they managed to settle upon her face and close and open in a sluggish but deliberate way. She sighed when she saw this, pulling away and wiping her hands on her nice dress, noticing that the smoke was settling on her skin and turning it black. She felt it on her face and in her nose and in her eyes and coughed again as it tried to fill her lungs. Then she hurried to find the medical supplies.

And so, after some swearing and snapping and yelling, and a lot of rag waving on the Auditore siblings' part, Elmo's study was cleared of smoke and vacated in favour of the downstairs area of the house. And of course, as soon as they had descended the staircase, Leonardo, Maria and Federico walked through the front door.

"_Mio Dio_! You all look a mess! What happened?" Leonardo demanded, eyes filled with concern.

"Claudia, your dress!" Maria cried, visibly dismayed.

"I know, _Mamma_, I'm sorry."

"Please. It was my fault, m'lady. I should have been more careful." Elmo said, presenting his bandaged hands with a wince, still looking rather shell-shocked.

A chorus of sympathetic sounds began and were ended by Jessica's bitter scoff. She glared off into the distance, her jaw tight and her mouth full of the foul aftertaste of smoke, adrenaline and panic. She picked at the soot beneath her fingernails.

She had panicked. She had thoroughly and completely lost her cool and now she couldn't decide whether she wanted to throw the mother of all temper tantrums or burst into tears. And what made her angrier now was that she had finally placed the smell of that smoke: gunpowder. But why Elmo would be messing around with explosives was beyond her.

And now it was covering her and her friends, ruining their clothes and blackening their skin. They looked like chimneysweeps. The faint memory of a scene in an old musical she could no longer remember the name of filled her mind and she grimaced, praying that Claudia's dress and Petruccio's fine jacket could be saved, because she sure as hell didn't have the money to replace them.

But the Auditores didn't look too concerned for anything but Elmo's welfare. But he assured them, with his usual Scottish charm, that all he needed was a good wash. As Leonardo properly introduced her injured friend and some small talk began, Claudia and Petruccio quickly took the time to snoop around.

With a sinking feeling, she watched as the two nobles cautiously explored the workshop, their hands clasped and their eyebrows high in what appeared to be both curiousity and mild disparagement.

"It has... character, I suppose," Claudia finally declared, her upper lip curling at a rather explicit anatomical drawing of a certain male appendage.

"It's definitely the home of an artist," Petruccio reasoned.

"But not of a noblewoman." Claudia looked at her with an expression of pity and guilt. "I never thought... When you saved my brothers and fled Florence, I never considered the possibility that you would be forced to cut off all ties to your family and your fortune. Have you not written to your aunt at all?"

Jessica shook her head shortly, and Claudia grasped her arm tightly, looking distraught. "Oh but you must! It has been years, Marietta. You shouldn't have to live like this."

"I _like_ living like this. This is my home, Claudia."

"But how can you possibly be content to live in such a place? You were born into the highest of nobility. You were raised in a _palazzo_ thrice the size of our own. Your family owns a vineyard in the countryside and a villa by the sea. And now you live in this tiny place, _working _as a painter's _assistant_."

Jessica shrugged her off, glaring in anger and in mild discomfort at the talk of a life, property and family that wasn't her own. "I _like_ living here. I _like _working here. I'm happy here."

Claudia gave her a look which showed that she didn't quite believe her, but in the end she sighed resignedly.

"The years have changed you, Marietta. More, I think, than the rest of us. And it pains me that you have truly given up everything for the sake of my family. But what of your inheritance? And what of your aunt? You must know that they have searched for you."

Jessica's stomach did a front flip. "What? Who has?"

"Your family's men. Your aunt sent out search parties across _Italia_ months ago. It's a miracle they haven't found you here."

"She's looking for me?"

"Of course. The heir to the Sanfilippo fortune cannot simply vanish without consequence," she laughed.

Jessica didn't find it funny. "I'm not that person anymore."

Claudia nodded understandingly. "I know you're not. But there are some things you cannot run from. Sometimes the past does not stay in the past."

Jessica had the sudden urge to laugh, and then cry, and then curl into a ball and laugh some more. She could not think of a single sentence which had ever rung so true. It was truly the motto of her life. She shook her head and had nothing else to say.

Jessica was glad when the smell of rotten eggs wafted down the staircase and began filling the room. Maria's nose wrinkled in disgust and Federico politely coughed behind his hand and they decided the best thing to do was go home. And just to make sure that this day was a thoroughly awful one; Claudia stopped before they left, pulling Jessica aside and lowering her voice with a smirk.

"My brother has not stopped staring at you all day. He seems to be quite taken with you still. Perhaps now there is a chance—?"

"It was nice to see you, Claudia."

Her smirk fell at Jessica's quick interruption and she poked her in the side. "You must realise that he can give you all you deserve, and it would be wonderful to have you as a sister at last—"

"_Goodbye, _Claudia," she growled, and the younger girl shut up.

"Fine, fine!" With an exasperated sigh, she pulled the tense Jessica into a hug, rolling her eyes at the older girl's sour face and chuckling as she finally followed Petruccio out of the door, waving as they went.

Jessica sat with Elmo and Leonardo in front of the fire that night. The men chatted. She brooded.

She knew that her mind should be occupied by the shocking and disturbing news that some rich aunt had sent men throughout the country searching for her, or for the person whose identity she had stolen, but she was more bothered by the fact that she didn't even know the details of that identity. And she couldn't ask Leonardo now because Elmo – stupid, reckless Elmo who had played with explosives and nearly killed himself today – was sitting right there.

Jessica then felt guilty for not wanting Elmo to know that she wasn't who she said she was. And then she felt guilty because though Leonardo knew that she wasn't who she said she was, she had never told him who she actually _was_. _And_ _then_ she felt absolutely _awful_ because at this point, she could hardly remember herself. Her identity was half-lie, half-mostly-forgotten-memories. And in a couple of years, she had no doubt that if someone were to ask who she was; she would not be able to honestly tell them a goddamn thing.

Maybe it would be easier if she couldn't remember anything at all; if she just wiped her memory clean, moved to another country and started all over again. Having no past was surely better than what she had: a mess of blurry, vague memories of places, faces and events mixed in with television shows and movies and stories from books which her mind intertwined with the real memories just to thoroughly screw with her, so she couldn't honestly say what was real and what was something she had read in a book one time. And throughout the mess was a lovely spattering of gaps and holes. She couldn't remember the name of her first cat, or if she had a cat at all. She could remember the name of her school, and her hometown, but none of the people in it. She remembered her family's names, but not their faces, or the colour of their hair.

Her one reprieve to the maddening memory loss was the journals she had kept when she had first arrived here. In them, she had written down random memories, drawn places or faces, and listed songs or books or movies. And reading the names helped. Reading her name helped. Jessica Raso. The person she used to be. But it was a double ended sword. Because reading the journals hurt. It made her thoroughly depressed to read about things that she could remember loving but not being able to remember why, or even what they were in the first place. She remembered the big things: TV, movies, school, the things she had learned and the stories she had heard. It was the little things that vanished.

She was jolted out of her brooding by a sentence from Elmo which she simply _could not_ have heard correctly. Blinking, she turned to see Leonardo looking vaguely surprised and Elmo gazing at her with cautious expectancy.

"You _what?_"

"I've decided to join the Venetian Thieves' Guild."

"..._What?"_

"This wouldn't be due to a certain dark haired lady-thief, would it?" Leonardo commented, one eyebrow raised knowingly.

Elmo blushed, and they all saw it. "No, I—"

"Lady thief_? _What _lady thief_?!" Jessica spluttered, completely confused and horrified. She had heard about the Venetian Thieves Guild. They were the most vocal protestors against Barbarigo's tyranny, and also the most violent. "You_ hate_ thieves! 'Scum o' th' earth', you said!"

He screwed up his nose at her attempt at mimicking his accent. "See, tha' is the kind o' prejudiced thinking yer always warning me about. I'll have no more of it. I think this will be good for me. I'd thank ye to be a bit more supportive o' me life choices."

"Your_ life choices—"_ Flabbergasted, Jessica couldn't continue. She looked about for someone to come leaping out and say it was all a big joke but the only other person was Leo, who didn't seem all that concerned either way.

"What have you to say about this?" she asked the artist, who only shrugged with wide eyes in response. She scoffed at him. "That is _so _typical of you. You know, if it were a little thing, like a new screwdriver or a particularly nice colour of paint, well then stop all the clocks because there can be no greater moment in your entire life than this! But _big_ things, like say, Elmo wanting to join a band of _thieves, _well, what's all the fuss about? Ignore the fact that they're _criminals _that do _criminal things _which guards didn't particularly like people to _do _and thus could get him _killed _or _arrested_. But no, nothing to worry about!" She threw her hands up, leaping to her feet and walking away from them before she could give in to her urge to throttle the both of them.

"I take it ye don't approve," Elmo drawled sardonically after her.

"You're damn right, I don't!" she called viciously back down the stairs. "But go ahead and ruin your life, what do I care?" And with that final awful addition to her terrible day, she slammed her bedroom door and didn't come out for the rest of the night.


	26. Chapter 25 (2016)

_"__Sometimes the hardest thing in life is to know which bridge to cross and which to burn."  
― Bertrand Russell_

Jessica adjusted her grip, her muscles taut and her jaw clenched. The skin on her knuckles was white and her eyes were hard and unyielding as she held tight to the wooden stick in her grasp, winding back her shoulders, taking aim and then throwing the force of her entire body into her swing. The stick hit its mark and a foul smell filled the air. She covered her mouth with her arm, coughing slightly in disgust, before she pulled back the stick and swung, again and again. Gritting her teeth she swore bitterly with every merciless blow, shivering in the crisp morning air though cool sweat beaded on her face. Her shoulders and back ached but she refused to let up. This had to be done.

"Tea, _mia cara_?"

Jessica started, lowering the stick and turning toward the voice with a sheepish look, not realising there had been an audience to her violence.

"Leo. What are you doing awake?"

"I'm here to give you tea. And to save what is left of Elmo's rug, apparently. Go easy on it, would you? You are cleaning it, not beating the life out of it. Honestly, what did it ever do to you?"

Jessica half smiled in response and took the proffered cup of warm tea, leaving the rug beater leaning against the tree from which she had hung the blackened rug from Elmo's study.

"It still smells like rotten eggs," Leonardo commented lightly as they drank their tea and inspected the damage in the early morning light.

"The whole house does," Jessica grumbled. Glancing sideways at the man she wondered how he could be so blasé about everything. It was like nothing fazed him. It was infuriating.

"It was an accident. Do not be angry with him."

"How could I not be?" she scoffed, wincing as she burned her tongue. "First he tries to kill himself messing around with black powder, and then he tells me that he wants to become a _thief_."

"I don't think that's what he meant," Leo smiled serenely in the face of her brooding fury. "He sympathises with their cause against Barbarigo and wishes to assist in easing the troubles of those who suffer beneath him."

"I get that. The man is awful. But black powder? Is violence really the only way men know how to deal with their issues?"

Leonardo sent her a look of gentle chastisement, as if amused and touched by her naivety. "I know how it offends your pacifist tendencies, but you must try to understand; some men simply cannot be reasoned with. Men in power who use their influence to exploit others are rarely willing to part with it. Sometimes they can be convinced by words, or with a sword. But others would die before relinquishing that which they believe to be theirs."

"And you're fine with that? You think that those men deserve to die?" she stammered, aghast.

The man sighed deeply, the pained look on his face a strange change to his usually bright and jovial features. "I believe that every man has a choice to either do good, or do evil. And whichever path he chooses, whichever actions he chooses to make, he must accept the consequences."

"But what about the possibility of reformation? Don't you think people deserve a second chance?"

"Of course. For some people, such things are possible. But for others..." He shook his head sadly. "There are many good people in the world. But there are also a great many who are bad. And amongst them are the wealthy and influential few who use their advantage to harm others. Sometimes it is a select few who fall victim. But more commonly, it is entire populations who are starved, oppressed and slaughtered at the order of the bad man who resides above them. I believe in the sanctity of life, Marietta, truly, I do. But would you not agree to the death of a single bad man if it meant that a hundred others might live?"

Jessica glowered into her cup, not liking that she had been trapped by the question. "That sounds like something Ezio would say," she grumbled at last.

Leonardo was quiet for but another moment before he brightened once more. "Well, I think this will be good for Elmo. Trust that he is an intelligent man who knows what he is doing."

Jessica sighed deeply. "I just don't understand where he got the idea from in the first place."

"Ah, well that would be because of the woman who visits him."

She blinked at him. "What woman?"

"The brown haired thief woman. She visits him every few days and they sit for hours in his study. They seem to enjoy each other's company." He chuckled, nudging her side playfully.

Jessica, horrified, was drowning in guilt and shame that she had neglected Elmo so much in these past weeks leading up to the Auditore's arrival that she had failed to notice that he had met anyone at all. What sort of friend was she?

"Ahh, what is her name? It is some kind of flower, I'm sure..."

Jessica was struck by a sudden realisation. "_Rosa_?" she offered with a deep dread.

"Yes that's it! Rosa."

"Elmo is spending his time with _Rosa_? Are you serious?"

"Yes. You know her?" he asked curiously.

"We've met," she said dryly. "She's shown up near a dozen times out of the blue to talk to be about her relationship problems. Apparently I'm not the only person she's found to listen to her ramblings." Jessica scowled, the initial surprise fading back to her dark mood as she wondered what exactly it was that Rosa was playing at.

She had appeared suddenly at Jessica's side in the markets and at various locations around the city quite a few times since their first conversations about 'Steve', and the topic never really varied otherwise. The young thief was entirely enamoured with her mystery man from across the sea and Jessica could see that it was quickly growing to something more serious, though she did occasionally mention other names but none which recurred as frequently.

And now Jessica knew all about how his eyes narrowed when he was thinking, how his lips twisted in the most adorable way when he was upset, and how he liked his coffee with cream and sugar. She had been fully informed of how attractive his fingers are, and how Rosa couldn't decide whether she liked them better bare or in gloves, and how it made her insides twist in the most wonderful way when he rolled the sleeves of his shirt to his elbows so she could see the dark hair and lean muscles of his arms.

Jessica also got to hear a lot about his jaw. Apparently it was the best jaw in existence.

He was also kind and handsome and brilliant and clever and perfect and powerful.

_Ugh. _

Jessica rolled her eyes just thinking about it. What an absolute _nightmare_.

She would rather have faced the man who had apparently been following her from the marketplace – a story she now highly doubted – if it meant that she never had to meet and suffer Rosa and her never ending tales about how funny and attractive Steve was that week.

It had been a long time since she had met someone she really didn't like, and Rosa was it. She supposed that she was a nice enough woman. In another life her sass and sarcasm might have even rubbed well with Jessica. But her issue had never been personal until now.

Because if she was so in love with Steve – God, she was regretting that codename –, what the hell was she doing spending so much time with Elmo? Were they friends? Did she like him? Did he like her? Jessica remembered his blush when Leonardo mentioned her last night, and she answered half of her own question. But did she feel the same way or was she just using him while she bided her time waiting for Steve to come around? If that was the case then they were going to have some serious problems.

"She seems like a lovely young woman."

"She's a thief. She'll bring him nothing but trouble."

Leonardo decided not to argue with her, and so they stood in a tense silence as the sky slowly brightened and the birds awoke and the day began.

"Not that one."

"Why not?"

"It has worms in it."

Jessica picked up the fish beside the one she had been inspecting and glanced at the little girl next to her. "What about this one?"

"That one's good."

"Good."

She purchased the fish and they moved on, weaving slowly through the busy marketplace. It was a cool midmorning, but the heat of the bodies packed tightly into the covered marketplace put sweat on her brow and made her roll her sleeves to her elbows. She stumbled as a large man shoved past her and cursed under her breath, keeping her face pleasant and her posture submissive as she was sent a dirty look for 'being in the way' of yet another foul-tempered Venetian.

She had enough experience in this life to know that being assertive and confident as well as a woman would not end in her favour; if she wanted no trouble the best course of action was to lower her eyes, stammer an apology and skitter off. To do otherwise would cause a scene, and then people would talk and the last thing she needed was to gain a reputation which would adversely affect Leonardo's business, and thus her own. It wasn't so bad, biting her tongue. And she could always bitch about it later to Elmo.

Uni, on the other hand, had no such troubles. To see her moving calmly and freely through the crowd, unhindered by a truly physical form and thus literally passing through the bodies around her would once have thoroughly disturbed Jessica, but as it was she barely noticed it.

"Why do you wish to know about Marietta Sanfilippo?"

"I want to know who she was. And why everyone thought I was her. And probably why I'm here in the first place. I assume it's all connected," Jessica mumbled nonchalantly, picking through the apples and choosing the best looking ones to add to her rather full shopping basket.

She sensed Uni's frown before she saw it, and only had to glance at the child to encourage her to speak.

The little girl shook her head. "It's not relevant," she said with a sincere lack of understanding. A tiny, pale hand reached out and took a pear from the stall, rolling it between her hands and inspecting it with curiousity as they moved off. Jessica prayed no one could see a pear floating eerily along beside her.

"It is to me," she said, looking down at the young girl severely. She watched as Uni's dark and gaunt features twisted unhappily; she didn't like it when Jessica pressed a topic. Usually she would just disappear, effectively ending the conversation, but today she lingered.

"You could ask your companions. They trust you and would be honest in their answer."

Jessica remembered how Leonardo had encouraged her to say more on the topic of where she had come from as they stood in the Auditores new home. He would listen, and he would most likely believe her. Elmo probably would too, after some convincing. He was rather hard headed, after all. But what would be the point? Who Jessica Raso had been was no longer relevant to her life. But who Marietta Sanfilippo was had quickly become quite so.

"I'm asking you. You heard what Claudia said; there are people looking for me—for Marietta. She had an aunt and the aunt wants to know where her heiress niece has gotten to. And since everyone thinks I'm Marietta, they're going to think that I'm that niece." She sighed at Uni's furrowed brow and tight lips. "All I'm asking for is some general background knowledge, and maybe an explanation as to why everyone thinks I'm her in the first place."

They paused in a less crowded area of the marketplace, beside a stall where an elderly florist sold a breathtaking array of colourful flowers. She was grateful for the roof over the place, for though it was winter, the heat of the markets was intense, and the sun would have made her slight discomfort all the worse. Jessica adjusted the heavy basket on her arm and stepped out of the way of a man carrying a large rug on his shoulder, which turned as he turned and hit a woman on the back of the head. As he attempted to apologise to the woman and her furious husband, Jessica pressed close to the stall beside the florists', which sold a variety of incredible smelling pastries. She took in a deep breath and deliberated whether or not she could afford to indulge in such a treat.

"If you were to know than you would know. The Mark will tell you all."

Jessica had heard such excuses for years, but not once had the Mark on her hand ever offered any such knowledge on anything she wished to know about, so she nodded impatiently and asked again.

"Why has everyone always assumed I'm her?"

Uni bruised the pear in her hands, watching as her small, bony fingers dug into the soft green skin of the fruit, and for a long while Jessica waited for the inevitable pop of her ears which would indicate the girl's disappearance. But it didn't come.

"You are... identical, to her. That is why they call you by her name."

Jessica frowned, "Well, yes. I figured that much. But why?"

"It is... easiest this way. The family trusted Marietta Sanfilippo, and so they trusted you."

"Okay," she nodded. "That makes sense... Where is she now? The real Marietta?"

She knew before Uni had even reacted that she would get no answer to this question, and indeed she watched as the walls fell behind the inhuman girl's red-gold orbs, and the black of her eyes, where white should be, churned impenetrably.

But whatever vague and cryptic response Uni had to say was interrupted by the unwelcomingly familiar sound of guards clanking their armoured way across the cobblestones. The duo, one real and the other not quite so, turned with a wary apprehension amongst the sea of people who also turned to stare either disgustedly or fearfully at what proved to be a small troop of Emilio Barbarigo's guards, in all their yellow and blue splendour, shoving their way through the crowded market.

Whatever hopes of the guards being a simple patrol were vanquished as group came to a stop before the elderly florists' stall and for a long moment Jessica couldn't quite comprehend what was happening before her eyes. Instinctively she stepped into the gathering bystanders, becoming one of the crowd and observing as the guards descended threateningly on the trembling old florist. Around them, more and more people stopped to watch as the guard leader demanded Barbarigo's dues.

"You think you can conduct your business without paying what you owe?"

"Please, _signore_. I have paid my rent to _Signor_ Barbarigo—"

"You are a liar! Do you think we would be here if you had paid?"

"Please, sir! I don't understand."

The people around her grumbled and shifted unhappily as the guard leader grew agitated as the florist tried to explain that he had paid the rent and didn't understand why they thought he hadn't. Jessica scowled at the guards who surrounded their leader, their backs to him and their weapons out as they glared at the crowd. This wasn't going to end well, and Jessica knew it. Her ears popped and she knew Uni had vanished. The pear the girl had been holding hit her foot as it rolled across the ground.

She glanced down as it touched her shoe, and in that moment, there was a yell, and a crash and she looked up in shock to see the florist scream and duck for cover as the guard leader simply took the edge of the stall and flipped it over, sending buckets filled with water and flowers everywhere. Delicate petals were crushed underfoot as the leader stamped on the buckets, crushing them to bits, laughing as the florist pleaded with him to stop.

Horrified and furious, Jessica looked around at the drawn, tight, and fearful faces of the people around her. Someone had to do something! Her grip tightened on the handle of her basket as the leader turned his attention from the devastation of the once beautiful flower stall to its owner, who cowered from him, tears dribbling down wrinkled cheeks. Jessica's face burned with emotion as her every muscle tensed and she opened her mouth to scream at leader of the guard, who had reached down and plucked the elderly florist from the ground, to stop, when she was suddenly forced aside by an enormous hulking form who had pushed his way through the crowd.

Jessica recognised him as the fishmonger from whom she had just bought a rather nice, parasite free fish, and with wide eyes she watched, along with the rest of the marketplace, the vast majority of who had stopped to watch the scene, as he drew the attention of the very clearly armed guards. The fishmonger was huge, bigger than Ezio even, with thick, black hair and a beard to match, and shoulders which seemed built instead of grown. He stood before them, in the clear space which had formed as a safe distance between the crowd and the guards, and faced them. Jessica's heart hammered in her chest as the crowd began to thicken and the air filled with a strange electric charge.

"Put him down," was all the fishmonger said.

The guards blinked. Their leader slowly turned to look at the one who had spoken, as if he could scarcely believe anyone could have the _nerve._ The fishmonger stared back unflinchingly, thick, black eyebrows low over stormy grey eyes. The florist sobbed quietly.

"And who are _you?_" the leader demanded, his eyes filled with malicious mirth and a dangerous smirk on his lips.

The fishmonger crossed his arms over his chest, and Jessica saw the muscles ripple across his back through his thin, dark grey shirt. She felt as though she were watching a movie, or a play. Though her mind seared with outrage at the injustice done, her heart hammered with the excitement of the moment, and she found herself rooting for this fishmonger who had, in a single moment, become her greatest hero.

The man in question did not answer the guard, and instead stepped forward.

"_Put him down."_

Jessica held her breath as she saw rage pass over the guard leader's face. His hands tightened at the florists' collar. The guards shifted at the threat and they half-drew their weapons. A bead of sweat rolled down Jessica's neck.

"Or _what?_" the guard leader sneered, his cruel eyes narrowed. "Have you any idea who you are talking to, _feccia? _I am of Barbarigo's guard. I take his orders and carry them out without hesitance or fail and am justly rewarded. I am the one who decides who has paid and who has not. I decide whether you _luridi branco di cani bastardi_ are to sell your pitiful excuse for food and wares." Incensed, the guard leader dropped the florist and stalked toward the fishmonger, screaming loud enough for all the crowd to hear. "_I_ am in charge here. And who are you who dares to stand against us? You are _nothing. _You are the shit on my boots, _lorido porco. _Run off back to your _puttana _mother while I still allow you to draw breath!" He finished, spitting at the fishmonger's feet.

But the fishmonger proved himself a brave man, or at least a defiant one. He stood like a wall; feet firmly planted and arms over his chest as he stared steadily at the band of guards who had destroyed the florists' stand. At his lack of reaction, the guard leader scoffed and turned from him, moving toward the near faint florist once more. When suddenly the fishmonger's loud voice rang out clearly through the marketplace, bouncing along the roof and from the pillars which held it above their heads.

"Piss on Barbarigo! And piss on any who follow the bastard!"

A shaky but loud cheer went up at that, and Jessica's heart stuttered in her chest as she realised that the other stand owners were gradually gaining courage in response to the fishmonger's brazen confidence. She clutched her basket and tried to edge out of the growing crowd, but there were too many people and she found herself wedged between a large woman with sweaty armpits and an even larger man with too many chins to count. She saw the guards fully unsheathe their weapons as they ordered what was quickly turning into a mob, to disperse.

Jessica forced herself to take deep breaths and stay calm. She would be fine. They were after the guards, not her. But the mob grew agitated as the guards continued to make their threats, and someone's elbow dug into Jessica's hip painfully, and people were shouting horrible things and pushing forward like a terrible wave of bony arms, sweaty backs and heavy feet. Then someone threw a rock. And another.

There was a strange metal clang as one of the rocks hit their mark, and the guard recoiled and the guards tightened into formation, shoving back a man who had drawn too close, and the action served to increase the anger of the crowd, and more rocks were thrown, more words were exchanged, and then suddenly, as if on cue, the mob descended and the marketplace was thrown into a violent chaos.

The merchants of Venice were frightened and they were angry and they were clearly fed up with Barbarigo's tyranny. They were done with being oppressed. It had taken the destruction of an old man's flower stand and the very near assault of his person to do it, but enough was enough. No more. Jessica supported the movement wholeheartedly. People deserved to go about their business at their own pace, without guards looking over their shoulders and watching their every move. She would just prefer not to be in the middle of it.

She would also prefer that the idiots actually fought their enemy, and not each other. She scowled as the mob got quickly out of hand, the tension in the air too great for the wound up and frustrated Venetians to handle, and so they took it out on anyone who came near, guard or not. She scuttled through the battlefield, keeping her head down and trying to stay out of the way of the swinging fists and people wrestling each other into stands and across the ground. Glancing behind her, she saw the fishmonger take a swing at the guard leader, who caught the giant fist with his face. The florist cheered from where he took cover behind the artists' stall. Jessica kept moving, looking for openings between the sweaty, roaring masses, headed toward the light. Movement above caught her eye and she saw young men standing upon the wooden stands and pelting people with rocks. She cursed the bastards, wincing as a pebble struck her shoulder from behind. They really weren't helping to calm the situation.

She stopped short with an embarrassing squeal of shock as the man in front of her was suddenly tackled from the side and driven into a vegetable stand, the combined weight of the men cracking the wooden structure in two and causing it to simply crumble before her eyes, sending apples, oranges, bananas and pears rolling in every direction. Clutching her basket tightly to her chest, her shoulders were around her ears as she stared in wide eyed astonishment at the destruction before her. It took her name being spoken by a familiar deep voice to shake her out of her sudden paralysis, and her eyes shot to the man who stood directly across from her, a mess of broken wood, squashed and rolling fruits and thrashing men separating them.

"Ezio?!" she gaped, stunned. And though she couldn't get the next words out whether due to shock or reluctance she was sure that her entire being was screaming it; HELP ME. More fluidly than she could believe, he had scrambled across the obstacles before him and was standing in front of her. In that moment, all of their past differences meant absolutely nothing as he stood before her and took her shoulders in his large, warm hands, one gloved and the other bare, and she couldn't remember being so happy to see a familiar face, even that of Ezio Auditore. He held her shoulders tightly, holding her close and seeming to engulf her form with his larger one, blocking her from the pandemonium around them, and she felt comforted, even as he shook her and glared.

"_What are you doing? You need to get out of here_," he snapped in a tone she had never heard from him before. It was deep and authoritative and powerful and she knew at once that he was in the headspace of an Assassin. This was Ezio Auditore at the most professional she had ever seen him. And the most intimidating.

"I know!" she snarled, hugging her basket to her chest and standing closer to the Assassin she continued to struggle to hate, as a tangle of women shrieked behind them, rolling from what had once been a bead stall, and hitting the floor hard, still scratching and punching all the while. "Let's go," she said shakily.

He wound his arm around her shoulders and held her tight against his side, throwing his cape over her head for protection against the rock-throwing youths and began to push their way through the horde. Jessica stumbled dumbly along, holding onto basket above all else, and silently reciting every curse she knew. She could barely believe her bad luck. Of course the day she went to the market the guard would come and incite a riot. And of course she would be at the forefront of it. And of course Ezio Auditore would show up and decide to help her.

She couldn't see much in her position, so she kept her gaze on the ground, watching his boots and trying to mimic his movements, not wanting to trip and have any more reason to be grateful to him. The noise was horrific, shouts and screams of anger, pain and fear, increased tenfold as it bounced off the roof of the marketplace. The air was thick with the stench of fish and fruits and flowers and sweat and blood. She kept tripping over broken stalls and rugs and candles and watermelons and limbs, and it was only Ezio's strong arm around her which kept her upright and moving.

Jessica leaned into his side, smelling sweat and leather and something which reminded her of the Auditore's Villa, and for the first time ever, she was entirely grateful that he was there with her. That he was protecting her without askance and without hesitation after everything that had transpired between them made absolutely no sense. But her feelings toward him never really had. Everyone else she knew fit nicely into a box in her mind; Claudia, and Petruccio and Elmo and Leonardo and Federico. She knew where they all stood in her life and what they meant to her. All but for Ezio Auditore.

She hated him and all he stood for, but the thought of seeing him upset killed her. She loved to talk to him but she rarely liked what he had to say. The sight of him intimidated her; he was a one man army, a walking armoury, an Assassin, and yet when he pulled down that white hood all she could think of was the young man lying sweaty and exhausted in the middle of the training ring in Monteriggioni, or who sat with her under the stars and drank wine and ate cheese and spoke nonsense with her for hours. Everything about him was a contradiction, and she doubted she would ever truly understand him. But what mattered was that he was here now, caring enough to protect her without a second thought on the matter, and that she trusted him enough to do just that.

He came to a stop and she straightened up, his heavy brown cape falling around her shoulders as she was drawn in closer to him, his warm, firm arm wrapped protectively around her slightly trembling form. Jessica was surprised at just how truly afraid she was, and even more so at how much being pressed so securely into Ezio Auditore's side comforted her. She had hoped that their stopping had meant that they had reached safety, but looking around, she saw that they had, in fact, found themselves rather stuck between a violent throng and a very large guard with an axe. There wasn't enough room for the man to actually swing the weapon, fortunately for the people he was faced against, but he was doing enough damage just waving his armoured arms about and shoving at people with the wooden hilt. The look in Ezio's eyes said that in any case, he really didn't want to go anywhere near him.

"What now?" she asked in what she hoped was a steady voice. He didn't answer and instead gazed around, his golden eyes gleaming and a proud look of defiance on his face that made him look especially handsome. At his unnerving lack of response, her panic rose. "Ezio?" she squeaked, staring up at his hooded face intensely.

At that moment, movement over his shoulder brought to her attention a man standing above the rest, one arm pulled back with a sizeable stone in his hand, and his eyes locked on the back of Ezio Auditore's head. She saw the man move, saw the rock fly from his hand, straight on target, and without a thought, she flung the basket out of her arms and threw herself against the man who held her, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed herself against him with enough force to send him back a step. His arms wrapped around her waist in instinctive surprise. His backward stumble caused his head to lower, effectively putting him out of danger, while Jessica's head came to be in the exact spot his had been; a fact which occurred to her moments too late as her world suddenly fell into darkness and she became limp in Ezio's arms.

He watched a thick bead of blood ooze from the sudden, round wound on Marietta's forehead just below her hairline, the red trail shocking against her pale skin. Holding her soft, lifeless form, Ezio stared into her face, beautiful even in violent unconsciousness, and tried to understand her. Even as his body flooded with a cold, searing rage, he held her gently, swiftly lifting her into his arms. The sight of a bloodily injured woman lying lifelessly in his arms seemed to startle many of the mob out of their bloodlust, and they stepped quickly out of his way, staring with wide eyes at the trail of red which now flowed steadily from the woman's head. Dark golden eyes glowered dangerously, inciting fear in the heart of any who found themselves in the Assassin's path. Ezio's mind raced as he carried the small, warm and limp form of Marietta Sanfilippo from the marketplace and toward his family's new palazzo, which was closer now than her own home.

Why had she done this? He could have taken the blow, as he had taken many others. But she had thrown herself at him, putting herself in the way of danger with the sole purpose of keeping him safe. No, he could not believe it. She hated him. She had made that clear on several occasions now. Whatever friendship he had once believed they shared was long gone, and during that time such terrible things had been said between them. But here she lay soft and unconscious in his arms, bleeding from an injury that was meant to be his. Had she truly known the rock would hit him? Were her actions truly made to protect him? Ezio's heart was in his throat as he entered his family's Venetian home, hurrying through the courtyard, his voice hoarse as he called for Federico and his sister.

They met him at the top of the staircase at the entrance to their home, and after some cries of horror and confusion, he was directed to lay her upon the soft feather mattress of the guest room's grand bed. Ezio stepped away to allow a deeply concerned Claudia to inspect and try to wake her friend, while their mother had Petruccio and the servants fetch the necessary items for her treatment. Federico shook where he stood beside Ezio, his shoulders tense and his hands curled into tight fists at his sides as his eyes fixed to Marietta's face, her long dark lashes fanning her bloodless cheeks and her pale lips parted as she breathed, slowly and deeply.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"There was a riot in the marketplace. She was struck by a rock as I attempted to get her to safety."

"A riot?"

"_Si. _The people are troubled. Emilio Barbarigo charges the merchants high rent and his guards are quick to anger and brutal in their punishments."

"She shouldn't have been there alone." Federico's eyes filled with grief for the life he had long dreamed of, and which had been dashed so swiftly by the very one he had hoped to live it with, leaving him heartbroken. Ezio squeezed his brother's shoulder in comfort. A gentle moan drew the attention of the room, and they watched as their mother dabbed at the wound with a wet cloth, cleaning the blood from Marietta's face, following the trail along her jaw, down her neck and across the flat of her chest down to where it had soaked into the scooped collar of her light blue dress.

The cool sensation pressed against her heated skin roused Jessica and she opened her eyes slowly, wincing as an awful throbbing headache ripped through her skull. She groaned, raising a hand to touch a particularly sore spot on her forehead when a soft, cool hand gently took hers and drew it away. Blinking in confusion, her eyes opened fully and she stared at the people around her, for a long moment having absolutely no recollection of who they were. She lifted her head to look at her surroundings for more clues as to what the hell was going on, and immediately regretted it when her stomach gave a terrible lurch and her head spun like she was on a Round Up.

"What the hell?" she moaned as the cool hand left hers and a cold wet cloth was pressed against her forehead, making the now notably unique pain flare across her skin. She managed to focus on the face closest to hers; an older woman with dark eyes, a straight nose and shapely pink lips looming over her as a waterfall of straight, dark hair cascaded over her shoulder. Several slow blinks and Jessica's mind returned to her. "Maria? What happened?"

"You are hurt, _mia cara. _Do not try to sit up."

Her eyes closed tight as the throbbing in her head worsened, she slumped back into the soft bed beneath her with a pained breath. She tried to remember what had happened but couldn't recall anything beyond inspecting a particularly good smelling pastry stall at the markets. She frowned as Maria continued to dab at her face, and opened her eyes again to look at her.

"Was I unconscious?"

At her serene nod, Jessica immediately panicked, every piece of information regarding the dangers of head injuries and being unconscious as a result flooding to her already bruised and battered mind at once.

"What? For how long? What happened? Did I trip? Did someone hit me?"

"Calm yourself," came a deep voice, and Jessica looked to it and met the steady eyes of Ezio Auditore. The way his eyes held her own, unwaveringly assured and completely focused upon her made her feel infinitely better as she drew strength from his calm composure. "You were struck by a rock during a riot in the marketplace. The people stood against Barbarigo's guards but it quickly descended into madness. I carried you to my family's palazzo."

She blinked at him, stunned at his words, and then deeply embarrassed. "You _carried _me? Oh god, I'm so sorry."

"Don't be. You are light as a feather."

"And you're a liar."

He chuckled, glad to see that she seemed fine, though her cheeks were still pale and she looked more than a little faint.

A thought came to her. "Has anyone told Leonardo? He knew I was at the markets and he would've heard about the trouble there by now."

"I will send word to him," Maria assured her gently.

"No, I should go." Again she tried to rise but immediately fell back onto the pillows as her stomach lurched and her pain flared through her skull before settling behind her eyes. She held back a groan.

"You are not well."

"I'm fine. Just a little woozy. How long did you say I was out?" she asked Ezio, her voice sounding weak even to her ears.

"Almost five minutes in all."

"Oh, good. I really... should go." She tried getting up slowly, but the world spun and she was lowered down by Maria's gentle hand on her shoulder. A cold press was applied to her forehead, and then removed, and she saw that the white cloth had turned red with blood. The sight made her stomach churn.

"You're not going anywhere in your state. You can hardly sit up, let alone stand," Ezio said, his voice commanding and far too loud.

She winced and found him amongst the sea of faces. His hood was down, his arms crossed and his golden eyes burned with a strange emotion.

"But Leo—" she protested weakly.

"Will be sent word. Would you just lie back and relax? Stubborn woman."

"Frustrating man," she retorted, but at last closed her sore eyes and did as she was bid, relaxing in the softest bed she had been in since Monteriggioni.

One by one, as each Auditore was satisfied with her care, they left the room, Ezio last of all, shooting a final glance at the woman curled up on the giant bed, a bandage tied around her forehead, fast asleep in the safety of their home. He smiled to himself as he closed the door behind him, but couldn't quite explain why. He supposed it was because he could not remember the last time he had been teased and spoken to so casually by Marietta, and he found that he enjoyed it immensely.

Ezio hid away his private smile as he found his brother standing by a window, gazing moodily out at what was one of the most breathtaking views of the Grand Canal in all of Venice.

"What ails you brother?" he asked, coming to stand beside him.

Federico's form was tense, his hands clasped behind his back and his knuckles white as he inquired through a clenched jaw, "Is she well?"

Eyeing his brother cautiously, Ezio nodded, "She is."

Federico nodded slowly. His eyes slid closed then and he wiped a hand over his face, for a moment completely still before he suddenly whispered, seemingly to himself, "Damn her."

Federico heaved in a shuddering breath and turned from his younger sibling, trying to get a hold of himself and Ezio understood at once and did not judge him for a moment.

"You still care for her." It was not a question.

Federico froze, his head lowered, and for a long while it was silent. Then, he spoke, "She broke my heart, Ezio. It nearly killed me. For so long I felt as if I could never be happy again. Nothing made sense without her near. Her smile, her eyes, her voice... _Il cielo mi aiuti. _Of course I still care for her." Federico sighed heavily. And then he fixed his brother in a stare that made the hairs on Ezio's neck stand on end. "Do you?" he asked lowly. For a moment, Ezio stammered in shock at the sudden turn in the conversation, but recovered quickly.

"You know of the one who holds my heart, brother. There is no other."

Federico's eyes widened. "Cristina Vespucci? After all this time?"

Ezio let out a breath, "Always."

But as his brother clapped him on the shoulder and left him by the window, Ezio found that he could not get the lingering memory of Marietta's arms winding around his neck, of her supple body pressed against his chest and the feel of her warmth beneath his hands out of his mind.


	27. Chapter 26 (2016)

_"__The best way to find out if you can trust somebody is to trust them."  
― Ernest Hemingway_

Her hand hurt.

This wasn't strange. What _was _strange was waking up in a warm, comfortable nest of light, soft blankets, staring up at a red silken canopy hanging from the dark, smooth wood of a bed she had never seen before. And stranger still was the hazy, distant memory of the sensation of hot liquid on her face, and a deep, familiar voice calling her name. Jessica blinked slowly and shifted with a soft groan, bringing her left hand to her chest and stretching out her clenched fist, massaging the aching and tense muscle of her thumb. As she moved, she felt something wrapped around her head, and, frowning, she grumbled under her breath as her mind gradually shook away the sleep. It was dark, so she assumed night had fallen, and for a moment she considered rolling over and going back to sleep. But she was worried that if she shifted too suddenly she would fall out of the tree.

The throbbing cramp in her hand distracted her from that sudden, worrisome thought. She felt the strings in her wrist as they were plucked by an invisible musician, but there was no music to be heard; only a pain that vibrated up her arm and settled in the crook of her elbow. A golden light filled the darkness around her and she saw that the Mark was glowing on her palm and she wondered if it was the musician which was hurting her so.

With a sigh she slowly pushed the covers away and sat up, her hand rising to her forehead and coming into contact with a rough, thick strip of material which had been tied at the back of her head. Pressing on it gently, she felt for any tender spots which would indicate cause for such a bandage but all seemed well, other than a distinct light-headedness that made her feel as if she were swaying gently upon the mattress. She supposed it was just the branch swaying with the breeze, but she grimaced in confusion because she couldn't feel the wind. She was about to lift the bandage off her head when a quiet voice hummed through the night air.

"You're awake."

Jessica tensed, suddenly painfully aware of the dim but warm glow emanating from the hand raised to her face, no doubt illuminating her features just enough that the mysterious other could be sure of what they were seeing. She was too shocked to panic and so she sat in frozen silence as her eyes adjusted and a familiar silhouette formed in the shadows, and slowly grew a straight nose, thin lips, high cheekbones and two sparkling blue eyes.

"Leo," she breathed, confused. Was he in the tree as well?

He held her eyes for a long moment, before they moved to the Mark. She could see him swallow hard as the glow reflected in his eyes. She didn't know what she expected, and she knew just by looking at him that he had no idea what to say. A wave of unsteadiness washed over her and she leaned back heavily on her right hand to steady herself as she blinked blearily at her friend. After a while, his eyes met hers once more, and then rose to her forehead.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, his voice not rising above a whisper.

She nodded slowly and finally took the bandage off. Leo took in a breath as he observed her smooth forehead, with only a section of hair crisp with dried blood as evidence of the injury that had been and which no longer was. Jessica's heart pounded in her chest and she wished she could make out more of her friend in the darkness, for cues of agitation or horror could not be seen in this low light; the pale of his cheek, the restless twitching of his fingers. She lowered her left hand, closing her fingers around it and trying to hide it amongst the sheets in her lap, trying to pretend that he hadn't seen it at all, and that there was nothing about her was out of the ordinary.

Of course, this was all but true, and she had a feeling that on a deeper level, Leonardo had known it just as well as she had, but knowing and seeing were two different things entirely. Though Jessica hoped and prayed that she, by some strange luck, was the only one who could see the Mark's glow, she knew she was kidding herself. Leonardo's form solidified further as her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she saw by the set of his shoulders that he was nervous – perhaps as nervous as she was -, yet his gaze was steady upon her face. She dimly wondered if she should ask him how they got into this tree in the first place, and why there was a bed in it.

"I came as soon as I heard. You gave me quite a fright."

"I'm sorry," she whispered back, staring at the bloodied bandage in her hands, afraid that now she could see him she wouldn't like what she saw. Her insides felt dry and a hand wrapped around her torso and squeezed as she tried to remain calm.

Leonardo was her friend. She could trust him.

"How long have I been asleep?"

"It is nearly morning, so almost a full day."

Jessica glanced up at him from beneath her lowered brow; an expression of wavering and uncertain hope that her trust was not misplaced, terrified that she would be beaten and crushed by rejection and fear.

This was _Leonardo_. If she couldn't trust him then who?

There would be no one left.

She would be alone.

"And you've been sitting there all this time?" she asked in a voice that she hoped sounded just like it always did. She didn't want him to know how small she felt, or how much she wanted to hide within that nest of soft blankets and go back to sleep as if nothing had happened. Her hands shook in her lap as the tree trembled beneath them and an owl flew past Leonardo's head. Jessica felt its wings as it swooped between them but Leo didn't react. Didn't he see it?

"Of course."

Her breath stuck in her throat at his simple answer. They sat and stared and she could see the stars burning cautiously in his eyes, and the concerned kittens sitting upon his brow and the tilt of his lips that meant that all would be well if she trusted in him.

Did she trust him?

Her heart fluttered and pounded spasmodically and she wondered if it would simply stop at the moment he finally recoiled from her in revulsion. If not for the mere fact that she was simply a freak, but that he might not even believe that and think that she was lying to him, or worse, that she was completely mad.

Would he think that? Would he tell her even if he did? Did she trust him enough to believe him even if he didn't pull away from her?

Was she simply being unfair? For the words he spoke were gentle and caring, and filled with a concern she had come to know from him. Surely such tender sincerity couldn't be falsified.

She watched a family of fireflies dance on the tip of Leo's nose as a kookaburra laughed at something the owl had said. Her fingers tightened on the blanket as she slowly began to realise that something was quite off. Were owls usually that articulate? Or funny?

Somewhere beneath the blanket of charged and damaged thoughts, Jessica knew that something was definitely not right. Her body was a helium balloon and her head was a cloud and the room was swirling and turning and the glass bubbles that were her eyes couldn't keep up. They fixed to the windows in Leonardo's face and she saw the sun and the sky and all the happiness in the world. Her vision swam away.

God. Was she mad?

"Elmo arrived with me, and he stayed until night fell." She heard him say, as she closed her eyes and tried to figure out what was real. "I told him to go home, and that I would stay and watch over you."

The corner of her mouth twitched, and she winced as she felt the wire which moved it tug too hard. "Like you always do," her voice was small. But she knew that was real. That was true.

He smiled gently at her with a shrug of his shoulders, shifting on the chair he had pulled up beside her bed. It swung precariously over the edge of the thin branch he had balanced it upon, but he seemed so unconcerned. That was Leonardo; confident and assured and brilliant in every way. She admired him so much. He was amazing. All she wanted to do was to be like him.

A gentle pop of her ears and suddenly the little girl was there, sitting on the bed beside her. She didn't look very happy. Jessica couldn't remember her name, or why the fiery worlds burning in her eyes made her feel so sad. She stared at those eyes for a long time until something warm and wet on her face startled her and Leonardo's very real touch on her arm drew her attention to the understanding goodness that was his face.

The sky in his eyes shifted from her face and looked at the Mark again, glowing like an ember in her hand, and his eyebrows rose in a silent question.

And then there was nothing else to do but to tell him.

Jessica pulled away from him and drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them, hiding her face in the covers and clenching her eyes shut as her body became a body once more and everything was that body and the only sound in the world was her voice in the emptiness, reaching out to the one who would hear it.

"My name is- _was_ Jessica Raso," she whispered into oblivion. "I was born on the 20th of October, 1991 in Perth, Western Australia. My mum was a teacher, and my older sister Jasmine was six when I was born." A shuddering breath escaped her as her heart cracked open and whatever walls she had built crumbled to dust. The warm wetness spread to her knees and down her legs. She tasted it on her lips. "My dad died working in the mines when I was nine, but Mum took care of us. And she had Tommy, my little brother, a year later. We lived in a nice house and went to a nice school and had lots of friends and family around. And we were happy."

Her chest was open and bleeding. Was it supposed to hurt this much? Was it supposed to feel so good?

"I had just finished high school and was about to start a degree in Biomedical Science at one of the best universities in the country. I had lots of friends, a family who loved me and a future and goals I was ready and determined to achieve. And then one day, I woke up on a bench, in Florence, Italy, on the 27th of December, 1476. And that was that. I was nineteen."

Was she supposed to feel so broken? Little pieces of her were scattered across the bed. They floated in the air around her. She was too weak and too scared to reach out and pick them all up. If she opened up anymore, would there be anything left?

"And then I met you, and the Auditores. I knew that whatever reason it was that I had been brought here, it was because of them. Because of who they are and what they do. But, for some reason, I look like Marietta Sanfilippo, whose parents are dead and whose aunt is trying to hunt her down and who Federico is still completely in love with."

A wave of pain, no, _agony_, flowed through her, settling in her gut and squirming there like a worm pulled from the dirt.

"And then there's this thing on my hand. The Mark. I think it's the reason I'm here. I can't remember how I got it. But when I'm hurt, it _knows,_ and I get better. And then it glows. And when some people come near me, it tingles, or burns, depending on who it is. It tingles for you. It's like an itch, but a nice one. When it burns, it means that something bad is going to happen. It burned the night I met Elmo. I was alone and a man attacked me," She didn't stop, even when a strangled noise burst from Leo's throat, "and I, because of the Mark, was able to fight him off. And then I pushed him into the Arno and he didn't come back up. I kept trying to tell myself that he hadn't died that night. I tried to imagine that he was pulled downstream and then climbed out, cold but alive. But the truth is, I don't know. And I don't want to know."

The owl and the kookaburra screamed and soared around and around her head, but she didn't move. The worm ate away at her insides and the tree swung frantically, trying to fling her from its boughs. But the bed held tight. Her heart pounded and her skin was hot and she could feel black bile bubbling up her throat. How much was left of her?

"But the Mark does other things as well. It let me read the Codex pages you and Ezio had to decode; I could read every line without doing a thing. And I think it helped to heal Federico's leg far more quickly than it should have. And I think it helps Petruccio with his illness too. He's not sick when he's around me. And I think it helped me save them all in the first place. From the gallows. For whatever reason... this thing has brought me here and it has kept me and the people I care about safe. And... I don't know. That's not all bad, right? _Right_?"

Who was there to pick up the pieces? There was no duct tape left.

Her voice trailed off into the darkness, and she realised that the silence was worse and more oppressive than anything she had experienced in her life. She raised her head and slowly opened her eyes. She saw Leonardo sitting at her bedside, upon a chair, in a room that was dark and unfamiliar, but real. Heavy curtains smothered large windows, thick rugs hugged slick wooden floors and pompous furniture sat smugly against the walls which held vain portraits of people long since dead. The air was empty and enclosed. There was no tree, no birds and no stars in this cold room. Jessica's thoughts were like honey, but the delirium appeared to have passed. All she wanted to do now was sleep.

She didn't breathe as she looked at her friend, who was staring at the blankets before him with an unnerving intensity. Her entire body thrummed with the beat of her heart as the silence dragged on and she wondered if she had broken him.

Until, at last, he spoke.

"I remember, a long time ago, there was a night that we sat by the fire, and we ate and we drank and... you told me your name was Jessica." For a moment his words failed him and he gaped and blinked, gaze fixed to the bed, before language returned and he continued, speaking slowly, "And I believed you, to a point. People do strange things in the wake of a trauma. And you—Marietta had never been quite the same after her parents' death. Perhaps I believed you wished to be someone else, and so took on a new name, a new personality. I do not know," he stammered, shaking his head incredulously. "I did not question it further. You were you, no matter the name, no matter the face. But this is... _incredible_."

"I know."

"Unbelievable."

"I know."

"_Impossible_."

"I know."

Jessica waited for more. She didn't know what 'more' meant, but surely anything was better than this silence. She needed something more because she could still feel the holes where the pieces she had strewn about were supposed to be and she wasn't entirely sure she knew how to function without them or if she even could.

This all had to be a dream. She couldn't have just spoken those words out loud. She wasn't a reckless person and yet she had just risked everything. And Leonardo wasn't saying anything. He was broken. She was so stupid. So horrible. She had broken him. Broken him—

"Okay."

... _What?_

Jessica did nothing but stare as he came out of his reverie, with what appeared to be a determinedly accepting nod, and turned his gaze to look upon her stunned visage with a staggering beam which split his face from one end to the other in the most wonderful of ways.

"I believe you."

She felt as if it were several long hours before she found the strength and the willpower to form coherent thoughts and thus coherent words.

"You do?" Her voice sounded small to her ears but she was too astounded to be embarrassed. He laughed and she flinched, only able to watch as he surged from his chair and grasped her hands, both of them, apparently uncaring that the left one continued to glow within his hold, and shook them wildly.

"Of course! I admit, I was surprised at first, but in all of these years I never _imagined _that you were... you were from the _future!_" he cried.

"Wh—why are you so happy?" Jessica spluttered.

"I am happy because I finally understand. It makes perfect sense!"

"Does it?"

"Yes! I only wish you had told me earlier. Silly girl!" With that, he flung his arms around her and held tight. "I am so sorry," he whispered.

She was still too surprised to move. "What—?"

He took a deep breath. "That you are so very lost."

Jessica knew that he didn't realise what he had just done. He couldn't see himself scoop up all the pieces of her broken self and put her back together, but she did. He didn't have any duct tape, but he was Leonardo da Vinci, and he didn't need it. He stuck the pieces together with everything that was good and right and true in the world, everything that was happy and fun and worth it. Everything that was him.

He wasn't perfect, she knew. She had lived with him for nearly five years now, and she knew he could be childish and immature and selfish and sarcastic and lazy. But he was perfect to her.

"I was lost," she told him as her arms slowly wrapped around his waist. "But then I found you."

There was a wet sniffle behind her ear, and she watched as the urgent glow of the Mark ebbed and faded away and they were left in complete darkness, and she couldn't remember feeling so light.

"I have many questions," Leonardo mumbled some time later, still not releasing her from his embrace.

"I know."

"Many, many questions."

She chuckled and rubbed his back as he shuddered and sniffed into her hair. "I know, Leo."

Jessica wasn't quite sure when he fell asleep against her, but she found that she truly didn't mind. She gently detangled his arms from around her and rolled him onto the bed beside her and pulled the covers over him. Then she sat beside his sleeping form and simply breathed.

Somewhere in the midst of it all, Uni stood from where she had sat and observed in silence at the end of the bed. Beneath a veil of long black hair, fiery orbs glared out at Jessica's still form, and thin, grey lips curled into a snarl.

"They are a means to an end. You cannot trust anyone, Jessica," the little girl who was not a little girl sneered.

Jessica Raso didn't flinch in disgust or fear, but merely stared steadily into those eerie dark rimmed eyes and smiled with a conviction she had never before felt.

"You're wrong. I can trust him."


	28. Chapter 27 (2016)

_"__Some old wounds never truly heal, and bleed again at the slightest word." - George R.R. Martin_

Though Jessica slept no longer that night, she refused to exit the guest room without Leonardo by her side. She had no desire to face the Auditore's concern and her own embarrassment in solitude, for she was sure that both would be great and terrible. So she hid beneath the covers until the man yawned and stretched in his waking on the bed beside her. Leonardo sat up, looking both adorably confused and exhausted, straightening his clothes as he gazed around and finally settled on the two wide, green eyes peering out from the edge of the covers, beneath a head of unruly black curls. They stared at each other for a moment before he yawned again, which made her yawn in turn, and then giggle.

"'Morning, Leo."

"Good morning, Jessica."

He saw her eyes sparkle and she couldn't fight off her wide grin at the sound of her name on his lips. Leonardo smiled happily in return and reached out to further muss up her hair, in response to which she made a sound of protest and shied away, swiping at his hand with her own. He laughed until his eyes focussed on her palm, and he caught it at once, holding her cool hand within his warm ones and she tensed as she realised he was inspecting in great detail, the Mark. He didn't appear anything but curious, however, so she sat up and allowed him to look to his content.

"I have never noticed this before last night. Isn't that curious?" he said lightly, his blue eyes dancing with his thoughts.

"No one has," she shrugged, then frowned, a vague memory of a curious young man inquiring after it tickling at the edge of her mind before falling flat, lost to time. She decided not to mention it.

"What makes it glow?" he asked, and she deflated slightly, realising that much of the questions she suspected he would ask, she had no answer to.

"I have no idea. Magic, I guess?" she laughed, the word awkward on her tongue.

Leonardo looked at her. "There is no such thing."

"Then how would you explain it?"

Leonardo's eyes widened and he returned his gaze to the Mark, thinking hard for an answer she knew he could not supply. At last, he patted her hand and released it, rolling off the rather high bed and onto the floor, stretching his shoulders and back, making loud noises of relief.

"Come now, it is time for us to be off," he declared. "We have much to talk about!" He nodded to himself, straightening his hat and sweeping around the bed. "Do not think I will not subject you to each and every inquiry I am able," he warned playfully, shaking a finger at her. "It is not every day you discover your dearest friend is from the _future_!"

Scrambling out of bed, Jessica shushed him with a smile. "Keep it down. You're the only one who knows, and you're the only one who will ever know, alright?"

She winced as he practically danced over to the windows and threw back the curtains, sunlight violently accosting the previously dim and calm room. All traces of their reverent and peaceful conversation the night before had been vanquished by the new day, and any remnants of her hallucinations were taken with it. Rubbing her eyes, she slid from the comfortable bed and found her shoes on the floor and slipped them blindly on. Leonardo looked at his friend, her light blue dress rumpled, a hint of rust at the collar, and her face and shoulders mostly hidden beneath the thick mass of black curls sprouting from her head, rubbing her eyes and looking very small, and he quietly moved over to her.

Jessica was guided over to the vanity and sat before it while Leonardo returned to the bed and hunted for the ribbon she used to tie back her hair, returning to her victoriously and then surprising her by taking charge, running his artistic fingers through her tangled locks and managing to pull it back and twist it into something vaguely resembling a braid. It looked pitiful in comparison to her own efforts, which were in turn awful compared to Elmo's hairstyling abilities, but that wasn't the point.

Jessica watched her friend's face in the mirror, touched by the intensity of his focus on the task before him. He finished with a flourish and a laugh, and they grinned at each other in the reflection of the mirror, before her eyes slid to the door, and there they darkened as she remembered that they were not the only two in the world. She flinched, coming back to herself as something was wrapped around her forehead and tied at the back of her head, and she looked questioningly at Leonardo in the mirror.

"Unless you wish your secret to be known by all, it will be easier to wear the bandage, just for the moment."

She nodded in acceptance of this logic and he secured it tightly before offering his arm to her. Jessica stood and accepted it with a nervous intake of breath. She wasn't looking forward to dealing with the eldest Auditore brothers today, especially not knowing that Ezio had been forced to _carry _her from the marketplace. She had never felt so mortified; ashamed of what she considered the ultimate display of dependence and weakness. Jessica was a proud woman, if nothing else, and somehow, knowing that it was Ezio Auditore who had witnessed her in a state of complete helplessness made it that much worse. She just wanted to thank the family and leave as quickly as possible.

Shaking herself, she held Leonardo's arm tightly and was led out of the room, stepping out into a short hall with two doors on the right wall, and an open archway into the main hall straight ahead. Low voices reached their ears, and they followed the sound, turning left into the hall, Jessica wincing at the brightness of the glittering chandeliers and the thick beams of sunlight streaming through the enormous windows. The house was relatively warm, the large fire in the middle of the hall burning brightly, and Jessica's eyes were drawn to the high flames, and then to the family who sat upon the lavish sofas situated before it. Federico, who stood apart from the others, noticed their approach first, though he was turned from them, an arm resting on the mantelpiece, gazing broodingly into the fire. His head snapped around and he straightened instantaneously, his eyes gluing to the bandage on Jessica's forehead before sliding down her pale face to meet her stare.

"Marietta."

She cleared her throat awkwardly as he sighed her name, his voice thick with his relief to see her awake and well. His quiet declaration drew the attention of the rest of his family, who were alternately reading quietly or failing to best Petruccio at chess, and Jessica reddened as their heads turned at once and five sets of eyes were then settled upon her. Four voices spoke her name at once, and all in the room stood and faced her. She could feel their eyes assessing her form and looking upon the bandage and noticing how she leaned against Leonardo, and was both touched and discomforted by their obvious concern. She gave a small wave.

"How are you feeling?"

"Please, you should sit."

"Shall I call the maid to fetch you something to eat?"

"Would you like some water?"

Maria Auditore flapped her hands at her children, silencing them, and glided forward to stand before Jessica, smiling gently. "Are you alright, my dear?"

"I—yes, thank you. I feel much better today."

"You looked _awful _yesterday."

"I thought you were _dead!_"

"Claudia, Petruccio," Maria hushed them with a stern look. "Go have Cook prepare a hearty breakfast for our guests. Now."

Huffing, they went, and Maria, shaking her head, gestured for Jessica and Leo to be seated on the freshly vacated sofa. Ezio and Maria returned to their places while Federico remained standing, facing them now. Jessica watched as Claudia's skirts disappeared around a corner, and marvelled at the idea of having a cook, then chuckled to herself as she looked sideways at Leo, realising that she did.

"We were all very concerned when Ezio brought you to us," Maria smiled gently, looking fatigued as ever. At his name, Jessica's eyes flickered briefly to the man, who squirmed uncomfortably and apparently couldn't decide whether he wanted to smile at her or avoid her gaze. It was strange how comfortable she felt in his presence when he wasn't wearing his white robes; when he didn't look like the White Hood. Especially when his face was flushed and he looked vaguely constipated, like he was thinking something he wasn't very happy about, as he did now. A brow raised, she averted her eyes and smiled at Maria, all the while ignoring Federico's eyes on her.

The silence was palpable, but Jessica seemed to be the only one who felt it as she waited eagerly for her friends to return. She stared at the leg of the coffee table, her eyes tracing the lines of the wood and the occasional scratch before inspecting the pieces on the chessboard, where the game between Ezio and Petruccio was ongoing. It didn't take her long to see that Petruccio was going to win, which Ezio definitely wouldn't like. The thought of Ezio's outraged and disappointed losing face made the corners of her mouth pull up into a smile that was amused but not at all friendly. Surprisingly, guilt registered within her with the action and her eyebrows pulled together as she realised that the haphazard insults and unwarranted foul looks were no longer acceptable when it came to dealing with the White Hood. No matter what he had done, or what he continued to do, he had saved her. And unfortunately, that counted for something. It certainly didn't mean her opinion of the murderer had changed, or that her attitude toward him had suddenly become amicable, but for all that he was and all that he did, she now knew that, for what it was worth and if nothing else, she could trust him with her life.

That thought put a bitter taste in her mouth and she didn't want to think about it anymore.

The atmosphere lightened following breakfast, and even more so once Leonardo had convinced Maria that she was fine to walk home and they had left the Auditore's home.

Walking through the white door of their workshop, Jessica and Leo were witness to Elmo pounding down the stairs to meet them. Stopping in front of her, Elmo yelled something incoherently Scottish, waved his bandaged arms around for a moment and then swept her away from Leonardo and into an incredibly tight embrace, crushing her against his warm chest. She patted his back and let him hug her and waited until it was over. Now that she was home, she felt very tired and so, after swearing half a dozen times that she really was perfectly fine, she trudged up to her room, took off the bandage from around her head and collapsed onto her bed with a loud sigh. And she suddenly felt very alone.

Staring up at the roof of her bedroom, she listened to the sounds of the quiet yard outside her window and watched dust float in the beams of sunlight that shone through. Then she reached up and rubbed the spot on her forehead where a rock had struck her hard enough to knock her out cold. The skin was smooth, as it was on the rest of her body. There wasn't a bump, blemish or scar in sight and she hated it. Every scrape and scratch she had earned as a child, every stretch mark and pimple scar she had gained as a teenager; any evidence of her childhood or her past life had been erased. She was a blank slate that couldn't be marked. Any cut or bruise inflicted upon her skin was healed almost instantaneously. She remembered how years ago it had taken longer before any mark faded, but that period of time had shortened gradually; a few days, then a day, then a few hours, and now it took no more than a few minutes. It disgusted and discomforted her. It reminded her that she was somehow different, in a way less than human. She missed the feel of a scabbed wound and the ache of a bruised muscle. Now the only feeling that lingered was fatigue.

Jessica lay there, her eyes slowly sliding shut as her fingers ghosted across the Mark and her mind wandered to the marketplace and the chaos and the White Hood surrounding her with his warm strength and the smell of leather and then she was asleep.

Several weeks later

"Rise and shine, there's a man here to see ye."

Jessica heard the voice from afar, her consciousness flaring briefly before fading once more into the warmth and comfort of sleep.

"Oi, ye awake?"

A sharp rapping on the door made the woman roll over and groan into the pillow, the sound muffled. The Mark tingled lightly.

"Hello?"

The door creaked as it was pushed open. Jessica's mind grasped desperately for sweet unconsciousness as it began to ebb away from her, and she began to register sensations and light. She buried her face in the pillow and snuggled further beneath the sheets.

"Ahh, bless yer sweet heart, lass. Look at ye, all wrapped up and cozy in yer bed like a little angel. Aww, wee lamb."

Two beats of silence. Then there was a shout and a squeak as Elmo flung himself upon the covers and atop of her, on his back, arms and legs splayed wide as he crushed her beneath his weight, a large, goofy grin on his face as Jessica cursed and struggled to be free of him.

"Gah! Get off me you great lump of lard!"

"Awaken, sweet maiden!"

"Oh my god, get off!"

"Your Prince Charming awaits!"

"I swear to God—!"

"Ye of raven locks and cherry lips, and skin as white as—"

"Scottish bastard!"

He chuckled loudly and resisted her attempts to remove him, until she managed to grasp a handful of blonde hair and pulled it sharply. Elmo gave a shout and rolled onto the ground, leaving several strands of hair stuck between her fingers. Rubbing his head, he nevertheless grinned at her as he rested an arm on her bedside and gazed brightly at the woman who sat up now and glared down at him, her face shadowed by a mess of thick dark curls, her eyes cold and her upper lip curled into a snarl.

"What is _wrong _with you?" she hissed.

"Oh come now, Marie. Ye can't be angry with me on a fine a day as this!"

"Watch me."

His laugh was cut short by the pillow which struck his face, and he fell back and scrambled, still chortling, to sit upon the seat at her desk. "Now, now, lass. As much as I do enjoy our pillow talks, I did wake ye up fer a reason."

"Oh yeah? What's that?" Jessica snapped, rubbing her eyes and trying not to be irritated further by the grinning Scotsman in her room.

"There's someone here to see ye."

"Who?"

"Ah. Whatshisname. Ezio's brother. The one who's in love with ye."

Jessica choked on air. "What?"

"He's downstairs looking very broody. Says he needs to _talk_." He snickered, swinging on the chair.

Jessica's irritation drained from her as she fell back onto her bed and covered her face with a moan. "Oh god."

"Want me to get rid of him?"

"Ugh." Jessica thought about it but shook her head, waving an arm at him, her eyes still covered. "No. No, tell him I'll be right down."

"Yer sure?"

"No." With a deep breath she sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed, dreading the conversation she would suffer today. "Get out."

"But I could help ye fix yer hair and put yer makeup on, maybe choose a nice dress fer yer walk down the aisle—"

She had picked up the pillow from the ground and thrown it at him before she even knew she had. "Get out!"

With hands raised in surrender, Elmo fled the room, cackling as he went. "Bastard," she grumbled fondly, and started getting ready.

Federico Auditore stood and spoke with Leonardo da Vinci in the workshop, both men well dressed and neatly pressed as always. Jessica gulped and then cleared her throat to gain their attention, and a cold shiver ran down her spine as Federico turned and fixed her with a set of serious brown eyes. For whatever reason he had come, she could clearly see that he was determined to fulfil his mission. Thus far she had avoided being left alone with him, though they had walked and talked together on several occasions these past weeks, but on this day, she had a feeling that her fortune would end.

"Buon giorno, Marietta. You look well."

The smile she gave him was not all forced, for she did care about him, but she also feared him, in a way that was different than how she feared his brother. At least with Ezio, the fear was primal and natural; he was a predator and she was not. But she feared Federico for how he felt about her, and for how she would inevitably cause him pain.

She kept much space between them when she approached, and briefly glanced at Elmo who was pretending to keep busy in the background, but was really just swinging a hammer around and hitting things at random intervals. She sent him a stern look but he merely wiggled his eyebrows suggestively toward Federico and winked. Jessica could barely hold back a growl. Plastering a smile upon her face and sending only a slightly pleading look to Leonardo, who seemed entirely oblivious of her current mental state, she focussed upon Federico.

"Hello, what are you doing here?"

He smiled gently. "I would ask that you take a walk with me. There are some things I would like to discuss with you."

Jessica's stomach flipped and she resisted the urge to flee to her room. Oh, this couldn't be good. "Uhhh..." Over his shoulder she could see Elmo making kissy faces and she sent him a foul look before looking to Leo. The artist just shrugged helplessly and she knew she was stuck. "Yeah. Of course." She hoped her voice didn't sound too resigned, but if it did, he didn't appear to notice. Taking the arm he offered, she sent a final nasty look to Elmo, who was now making crude motions with the hammer, and left the workshop.

The streets weren't very busy this midmorning, and the weather was kind for the moment, the sun shining in the sky even as a thin layer of snow crunched underfoot. They walked in silence and Jessica busied herself inspecting each individual they passed, gazing in particular at their faces.

She was in the middle of a passionate drawing phase, though she hid her few works from the judgemental eye of one of the greatest artists of all time because she knew she would not be able to cope with whatever feedback he gave her, good or bad, purely on the basis of he being who he was, and she had long since known that she was best at depicting people, rather than buildings or flowers or animals. Jessica liked to create characters and give them stories and emotions. But this hobby was kept her most private. Elmo would only tease her, and Leonardo was too influential a judge for her to risk being judged at all.

It was some time before she realised that either Federico's courage had failed him or he had nothing to say in the first place, but whichever it was, she saw that she would have to be the one to initiate any conversation, and as her fingers and nose grew numb, she decided it was time to hurry this along.

"How is your mother? She was quite tired yesterday."

She felt him stiffen in surprise, his arm tightening around her own for a moment before he took a deep breath of crisp air and relaxed again.

"Yes, the journey to the tip of the Campanile took a toll on her, though I do believe she enjoyed it immensely. She is resting at the palazzo today, while my sister and brother spend the day in the Piazza San Marco."

Jessica smiled. "Hopefully they stay out of trouble."

"That is... doubtful." Federico joked, but seemed awkward and couldn't meet her eyes. His smirk quickly fell and silence enveloped them once more.

Jessica resigned herself to the boring walk and returned to watching the faces of people passing by, but abruptly he spoke.

"I make you uncomfortable."

She blinked and turned to stare up at him, seeing that he continued to avoid her gaze. "What? No! I mean—" She shook her head.

"Yes, I do," he stated, silencing her uncomfortable protestations. His jaw was tight and to speak appeared to cause him some pain, but he continued on. "May I ask... what is it about me that makes you uncomfortable?"

Flustered at his straightforward approach, she was for a moment, at a loss for words. Why did he make her uncomfortable? An easier question was why didn't he? There were simply too many reasons, most of which could really be put down to her own inability to deal with things in a calm, thoughtful and rational manner. But one thing she could say for sure that made her uneasy,

"You proposed."

He nodded at her quiet statement and they stopped walking. Federico released her arm and stepped back to face her. They stood in a small, empty street, surrounded by high buildings dripping with water and greenery, and beside them ran a thin canal, its waters a shimmering crystalline blue. It was the picture of beauty in this crowded city, but the air was dark and still around them, as if Venice itself were holding its breath.

"Yes. And you rejected me. At least, I think you did. Running away and disappearing for several years isn't exactly the traditional way of accepting a marriage proposal, so I just assumed..." he let out a short, weak chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. Jessica stared unhappily at the canal, standing as a statue before him, only rubbing her thumb in circles around the Mark as she was wont to do when she required reassurance.

"I didn't disappear," she dissented dimly.

"But you did run away."

She nodded after a beat, not moving her gaze from the gentle blue waters of the canal. Another long silence followed as he searched carefully for what he would say to her next, and what she could possibly say to him in return. In reality, she knew she deserved whatever it was he said to her, and in a way, she hoped that what he said would hurt her. At least it might then serve to alleviate just a little of her guilt. She wiggled her toes and shifted uncomfortably in the cold, and her movement spurred him on.

"I never read the letter you sent me. I was stubborn. I thought, 'if she wants to break my heart, it is better she do it face to face'. But you never came back. I don't know why I thought you would."

His voice was carefully controlled. Sardonic, but not harsh. Light, but not amused. He was stating facts. Avoiding the torrential emotions she knew dwelled within. She admired him for it, and was saddened by its necessity. "I didn't want to hurt you."

"I know you didn't. You would think that after all of this time I would have other things with which to concern myself, but my thoughts are always drawn back to you. It's rather pathetic, isn't it?"

His laugh was bitterly self deprecating and Jessica wanted to crawl into a hole and stay there. Her first instinct was to apologise, but she found the words lacking, then she wondered if she should comfort him but felt it too awkward and thus she remained standing in silence as Federico proceeded to cut open his heart and present it to her.

"After you rescued my brother and I... I could see that you were changed. You were quiet and reserved and so much stronger than I ever knew you could be. And you had pulled away from me. I thought that if I was patient with you then everything could go back to the way it was. I believed that you could possibly become the person you had been, even after all you had seen and suffered and sacrificed. I thought if I just acted like nothing had happened..." He shook his head. "I did not realise I was losing you until you were gone."

His voice broke, and she looked at him, her heart tearing to pieces for him. Federico's hands shook in fists at his sides and she thought his teeth would crack, seeing how tense his jaw was held. His brown eyes met hers and an uneven breath escaped his lips as his face contorted in pain and he whispered to the wind, trying with all his might to reach her but knowing deep down he never could.

"I love you so much it pains me. And to know that you don't love me is the worst kind of torture. Perhaps you did, once. But no longer. And how could you love me? Because of my family you have lost everything. You chose to throw it all away to save us. I should have known it then, that you had changed. But I believed that you wouldn't have done such a thing if you did not love me. I suppose I was wrong in thinking that I knew you. You are so much more than I ever believed. Everything you do surprises me. You deserve so much more than a crippled assassin. You must hate me."

He was crying, and he was broken but he was smiling, as if pretending to be okay was the only thing stopping him from falling dead on the spot. His brown eyes glimmered through the tears and his hair was loose around his face and his fine clothes shimmering slightly in the sunlight, and he looked every bit the tortured prince charming, or at the very least; a good man who loved a woman who did not love him in return.

"I don't... I don't hate you. But I don't love you."

She might as well have stabbed him through the chest for what those words did to him. Though he had only finished declaring it himself, it was one thing to know it and another to hear it said. He hid it well, the agony of a freshly broken heart, but Jessica could see in radiating from his eyes; could see it in the slope of his brow and the set of his mouth.

"I shouldn't have run away from you," she told him. "I should have explained how I felt but I was a coward and I let it play out until everything blew up and everyone got hurt. I'll admit the 'assassin' thing doesn't sit well with me, but I do care about you and I am sorry that I hurt you. You deserve so much better."

"And yet I want you," he whispered brokenly.

They were silent. He turned away from her, moving to lean against the wall nearby, his head limp on his trembling shoulders. Ignoring the urge to throw her arms around him and apologise until her voice was hoarse and her lips cracked and dry, she wrapped her arms around herself and stood facing the canal, feeling her stomach rend and her heart ache for him. Jessica stared down at the deceptively deep canal and listened to the movement of the water and the air rustling the leaves of the plants hanging from gutters and sitting on window sills above. Taking slow, deep breaths, she absentmindedly kicked snow from the flagstones into the water and watched it melt instantaneously, wishing she could do the same. Even as she tried to force it from her mind, she knew the sight of Federico Auditore declaring his love through tears and an already broken heart would stay with her until the day she died. But the punishment of eternal remorse and shame was the least she deserved.

"Well. Where does this leave us?"

She started as Federico suddenly appeared beside her, his eyes red and his nose wet but otherwise looking well put together. They watched the gentle ripples of the water flowing lazily by as he awaited her reply.

"I don't know. I'd like to be your friend."

His brow furrowed, "I'm...not sure that I could do that."

Jessica nodded quickly, "That's okay. I don't want you to do anything that might upset you. Just do whatever you think is best for you."

"...Thank you."

Taking a deep breath, she quietly declared. "I'm going to head back now."

Federico turned his head to look at her with tired, solemn eyes, but she couldn't help but think that he looked relieved, in a sad kind of way. "I think I will stay here for a while, if you don't mind."

"Sure." She tried to smile, but it didn't last long. "Are you going to be okay?"

"I'll be fine." His attempt at a smirk was likewise unsuccessful. "...Goodbye, Marietta."

"...Bye."

With a deep breath, she turned and headed in the direction she hoped would lead her to a main road. She stopped when he called her name.

"Oh, and Marietta?"

She turned and looked at him, standing tall and handsome in the snowy streets of Venice, alone.

"Yeah?"

He smiled, "Happy Birthday."

"_So. _How did it go?"

Shaking out the skirt of her dress and stomping the dirty snow from her boots, Jessica let the door slam shut behind her, not finding it in her to even glare at Elmo as he bounded up to her the moment she stepped inside.

"I don't want to talk about it."

"That bad, eh?"

Stepping around him, she moved to collapsed into her armchair, eyes closed, legs straight out before her, reaching toward the warm fire, and there she let out a long, exhausted sigh.

"Ooh. I see." She heard him hum, clearly deciding that now was not the time. "Well," he said, suddenly appearing above her, his hair a halo of loosely curled gold. "Leo made a list of the things we're needing to get in the markets, as well as a few other things we need; eggs, honey, resin, safflower oil and the like. Then he made _another _list of everything he wants done in the workshop by the end of today, and in all it is quite a lot of work that he's demanding of us. _But_ he has gone out for the day and now I'm thinking that it is really too much to work to ask of two weak and sickly invalids such as ourselves." He smirked, wiggling his still bandaged fingers. "There is, I have heard, a private party being held today, where there will be boat races and floating theatres and dancing and drinks."

Jessica cracked one eye open, peering up at her friend with a weary brow raised. "Are you asking me to abandon my duties to attend a party with you?"

"I am askin' that ye abandon yer duties t' attend a party and there get very, very drunk with me." At her continued look of unconvinced reluctance, Elmo scruffed up her hair, moved to the front of the armchair and offered his hand. "Come on, Marie! Consider it a Birthday surprise from Leo, because Lord knows ye'll not be gettin' one otherwise. That man can't remember a date t' save his life."

She had to chuckle at that. And after a moment of hesitance, she reached out and carefully took his bandage bound hands and let him haul her to her feet and out the door. Jessica laughed as the sun shone above and the streets twinkled with snow.

Happy Birthday, indeed.

/

**And with that, we have the end of My Final Mistake. Thank you to all those who read, supported, criticised and enjoyed this fanfiction over the years.**


End file.
